Amor
by WaitTilMyFatherHearsAboutThis
Summary: When his father was sent to prison and his rival, Draco Malfoy, became a Death Eater over him, Theodore Nott was angry. He was so angry, in fact, that he set out to ruin not only Draco, but the entire Malfoy family. Little did he know that Hermione Granger would turn out to be the perfect bait.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** Draco/Hermione main pairing. Also features Ron/Lavender, Harry/Ginny and minor Lucius/Narcissa. This fic will eventually contain scenes of a sexual nature, loss of virginity, torture scenes, character death, and bullying. If you are sensitive to any of those, please beware. I will put up an A/N at the beginning of any chapters that contain sensitive material, but this is a blanket statement that this fic will, at some point, contain the above. If you're a big fan of Theo, I do not recommend this fic.

* * *

 **Amor**

 _By WaitTilMyFatherHearsAboutThis_

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 **Prologue**

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Theodore Thoros Nott was pissed off.

Draco fucking Malfoy has been branded with the Dark Mark and ordered to kill Dumbledore. What has the bloody world come to?

Theodore Nott did not like Draco Malfoy.

In Theo's opinion, Draco is _not_ a Slytherin. Slytherins are resourceful, cunning, ambitious, intelligent, determined, shrewd self-preservationists. They are strong leaders. They are loyal to those few lucky enough to gain their trust. They are the best of the four Houses of Hogwarts.

Draco, however, isn't any of those things.

Draco isn't cunning. The boy blurts out whatever is on his mind without thinking - case in point; antagonising that Hippogriff and when he got himself turned into a ferret. Not to mention the many, _many_ times he's pissed off Potter. What exactly is cunning about pissing off a boy that's beloved by all of Hogwarts? Where will that get you, exactly, except isolated from the rest of the student body? If the idiot was cunning, he would hate Potter in silence, keeping his opinions to himself and blending in with the background. That way, he could go about his business without anyone saying a bad word against him, especially Potter. As it is, Draco has already broken Potter's nose this year. For fuck's sake. If the twat was cunning in any way, shape or form, he would emulate Theo and keep his head down, lest Potter stick his nose in. But no, not Draco. That fucking idiot has pissed off Potter royally, and Theo has heard the Boy-Who-Just-Wouldn't-Die talking to the blood traitor and the Mudblood about Draco being up to something this year. Way to go, Draco. Seriously, well done. It's not as if the mission is a fucking secret and having Potter and Dumbledore find out would mean his and his parents' deaths or anything is it?

Draco isn't ambitious, either. No, Draco merely wants to please Daddy. Lucius has withheld his approval and respect to such an extent that Draco has actually developed a bloody complex about it. Theo wouldn't be surprised if Draco literally bent over for his father one of these days. The boy is so ridiculously transparent in his behaviour - a perfect replica of Lucius. It's almost painful to watch Draco read the very rare letters he receives from home when he thinks he's alone, watching his eager, almost child-like expression as he devours his father's every word, only to finish the letter with the most dejected, my-dog-just-died look on his face and a definite slump to his shoulders before he valiantly attempts to school his expression into one of indifference. So no, not ambitious, just practically salivating for approval and unconditional _love_. Ridiculous.

Nor is Draco a strong leader. Unfortunately, he is merely a bully with two flunkies and a simpering tart hanging on his every word because of his family name.. If Draco pulled his head out of his arse and stopped wanking off to all things _Malfoy_ , he'd probably make a competent leader actually. Merlin knows the younger Slytherins look up to him and the rest of their House respect him. Except Theo. And probably Pansy; she's just in it for the money and the power that comes with marrying a Malfoy. If Draco was a decent Slytherin, he'd use that respect to his advantage instead of lording his superiority over everyone. That's what Theo did from day one. Nott is a good name, a good family, and Theo has the Slytherins' genuine respect just as much as Draco. Not that Draco deserves it for anything other than his last name.

Draco isn't determined. Not with regards to anything useful anyway. He's intelligent, yes, and his grades are second only to Mudblood Granger, but his determination to be the best is driven by his desperate need to prove himself to his father, rather than for any benefit of his own.. He's a determined Quidditch player too, spending hours upon hours practising, and when he was made Quidditch captain, spending even more time drafting game plans and getting the team in shape.. Hmmm.. Maybe he _is_ determined then.. But still, not with regards to anything of importance, like using the respect he doesn't deserve to drum up loyalty and connections for politics or recruitment to the Dark Lord's cause. Fool.

But worst of all is his loyalty. Draco is hardly loyal to the Dark Lord. Theo knows - thank you Nathaniel Goyle for being so incompetent that you consistently forget to silence the room when bragging to your wife about Death Eater meetings when there's two wannabe Death Eaters in the house that are _obviously_ going to listen in if given half a chance - that all three of the Malfoys' lives are forfeit if Draco fails in his task. Theo would never need Thoros's life to be threatened to accept a mission from the Dark Lord. No, he would be honoured. Just another way Draco is unworthy.

But even worse than being a shit Slytherin, is being a shit Death Eater. And Draco Malfoy is a shit Death Eater. That's the kick in the teeth for Theo.

Draco doesn't want to kill Dumbledore, practically shit himself at the idea - thank you once again, Nathaniel.

Draco also can't handle pain at all. The fucking coward literally _ran away_ from Mudblood Granger like a fucking child when she slapped him, insisting that he could never hit a girl, even a Mudblood, and he'd just get her back later. Then he never shut the fuck up about that bloody scratch from that mad Hippogriff in Third Year. For Merlin's sake man, it's a fucking scratch! Infinitely more embarassing, however, is that he screamed and cried like a little bitch when he took the Dark Mark. Theo isn't naive, he knows it hurts, knows it feels almost as bad as a Cruciatus, but still. Crying? Screaming? Have some fucking dignity, honestly.

Theo knows first hand that Draco doesn't want to hurt anyone. With their fathers being Death Eaters, Draco and Theo spent a fair amount of time together as children. As such, Theo knows first hand that while Draco may be a bully, he would never in his life actually hurt someone. Draco once absolutely refused to give up on one of Malfoy Manor's peacocks when it was mauled by one of Lucius's new dogs. Being children and thus, wandless, Draco picked the thing up, covering himself in blood in the process, and ran to Narcissa, begging her to heal it. Theo had been unimpressed. Why not just leave it to die? Why not just snap the thing's neck if it's painful cries were really that traumatic to hear? But Draco, the tosser, is apparently a bleeding heart for helpless creatures. He can't even bring himself to kick a house elf out of his way, for Merlin's sake! Oh, he'll sneer and yell at them, sure, but even that's halfhearted at best. Merlin forbid he actually demonstrate his superiority! How the fuck would he handle casting the Cruciatus on a Mudblood or Muggle? They're even lower than house elves, yes, but a Cruciatus is a lot worse than a kick, so it about evens out.

But most importantly, there's his loyalty to the Dark Lord. Or lack thereof.

No, Draco Malfoy is _not_ a good Death Eater, _not_ a good Slytherin, _not_ a good.. anything, really. Draco is a spoilt, petulant child that thinks he rules the world because of Daddy's influence and Pansy's not-so-subtle attempts to bed him and knock herself up so she can get her hands on his gold and his name. When she'll work out that Draco refuses to sleep with her for that very reason, Theo has no idea. Yet, _Draco_ is the oh so mighty 'Slytherin Prince'? What a bloody joke. Draco may be clever, he may be resourceful, he may be loyal to his parents, but that doesn't make him qualified for a mission from the Dark Lord. A better choice than Crabbe and Goyle, who couldn't find their arse from their elbow, certainly, but nothing compared to Theo. On par with Blaise, probably, but then Blaise is remaining determinedly neutral for the time being. Very Slytherin. He's still a bloody coward, though.

Just like Draco.

Theo would bet every knut in Gringotts that when the time comes, Draco won't kill Dumbledore. No, he'll probably bawl his eyes out and wait for Mummy or Snape or dear Aunt Bella to come and clean up his mess. Again, thank you Nathaniel Goyle for your inability to think further than shagging your wife and what you want for tea and forgetting to put up silencing charms. How the fuck that family are all Slytherins is anyone's guess. Their only redeeming traits are their blind loyalty and their ability to follow orders. If Crabbe and Goyle hadn't followed Draco around for years in his quest to soothe his ego - Merlin knows that prick's mile wide insecure streak is in constant need of validation. Thank you Lucius for that irritating character flaw you created in your already irritating son - and followed Theo instead.. Well.. They'd probably be a bit higher up the food chain at Hogwarts for starters, instead of overlooked by the entire staff and student body as gormless, idiotic bullies.

It's just so frustrating!

The Dark Lord has made a terrible mistake in choosing Draco.

The Dark Lord expects Draco to die in his attempt to kill their illustrious Headmaster and thus, slowly punish and torment Lucius for his failings, that much is obvious, but in his contempt of Draco - not that Theo can fault the man for feeling that way. After all, there are so few things about Draco that can be even passably considered useful - he's dismissed Draco's intelligence. While Draco may be many things, he is terrifyingly shrewd. Theo can admit, privately and only to himself, that that's where Draco has him beat. Draco can smell weakness and insecurity a mile away - probably because he's so ridiculously insecure himself -, that's what makes him such an effective bully. He's also perceptive, observant, and can plan ahead with startling accuracy once he puts his mind to it. If there's one person in all of Hogwarts that could effectively plot to kill Dumbledore, and succeed, it's Draco. And Granger. But that's unlikely, unfortunately. Not that Draco could kill him, no, but he could set the wheels in motion and let someone else pick up the slack, that's for damn sure.

Which is why Theodore Nott is so frustrated. Not because Draco was Marked and he wasn't, though that's certainly a factor, and not because Draco was given such an important and potentially war-changing mission, though again, definitely a factor. But mostly because Draco, for all his limitations, is the furthest thing from an idiot, and the wanker could probably pull the whole thing off. If that happened, if Draco actually had Dumbledore right where he wanted him, if he actually found his balls and killed the old man, then Draco would be rewarded beyond his wildest dreams. Shy of physically handing Potter to the Dark Lord, wandless and bloody gift-wrapped, there would be no Death Eater more revered than the one who killed Dumbledore. _That_ is what has Theo's wand in a knot. Draco fucking Malfoy, the boy who ran away from bloody _Granger_ , being the Dark Lord's favourite servant.

No.

No.

Not fucking happening.

No way.

Not if Theo has anything to say about it at any rate.

But Theo cannot interfere with Draco's mission in any way. A direct order from the Dark Lord prohibits anyone from helping him or doing it for him. If Theo were to let Draco plan the entire thing, then swoop in, kill Dumbledore, and take all the credit, it would not end well. Under any other circumstances, killing Dumbledore would be a sure fire way to find yourself not only in the Inner Circle, but right by the Dark Lord's side. But to contradict his order that Draco has to be the one to kill him? To contradict _any_ order? That would have much less pleasant results. Theo would probably find himself Marked for his trouble, but certainly not applauded and envied by the other Death Eaters, not honoured by the Dark Lord.

No. Theo couldn't interfere. The only way he could prevent Draco from reaping the rewards he most definitely doesn't deserve, is if Draco fails spectacularly. But that wouldn't work either. No doubt Draco has an almost fool-proof plan in place. After all, he's almost as intelligent as Granger and in this case, his life literally depends on success. No, Draco will have a plan. A brilliant one. One that Theo could use as his own. So Theo cannot interfere and he doesn't stand a chance at making Draco fail in his mission, not with Draco's life on the line, not when he has so much to lose and won't hesitate to tell the Dark Lord about Theo if he were to find out that Theo is trying to get in his way.

What Theo needed was something to distract Draco, to make him want to give up on his task, make him turn his back on the Dark Lord completely, if possible, and tell Theo of his plan so he could carry it out in his stead. But one problem with that was Draco's Occlumency. As an Occlumens, and a bloody good one at that, he could easily keep Theo from reading his mind and finding out the plan. He was also immune to Veritaserum. He was also well versed in throwing off the Imperius curse.. It would take too long to torture the information out of him, what with his life being forfeit if he fails providing a bloody good reason to keep quiet, and even if Theo Obliviated him afterwards, he had no idea how Draco would hide the effects of a thorough Cruciatus from the staff and that would definitely bring Dumbledore down on his head. No, Theo couldn't risk being investigated and potentially expelled for torturing Draco, nor could he risk the Dark Lord finding out what he'd done. That would most assuredly end in his death. Or insanity if he was handed over to Bellatrix. Nope, not worth it.

Theo had pondered over his decision to usurp Draco from the moment he and Greg first eavesdropped on Nathaniel. Hence, he'd given it some serious thought over almost the entire summer. But without knowing Draco's plan, it would be impossible to formulate his own.

Draco definitely returned to school with a plan already in place, much to Theo's delight. Then, for almost two months, Draco all but disappeared. The only time Theo saw him was seconds before curfew when he flew into the Common Room, in class, or at the occasional meal. He fobbed off the Quidditch team with excuses and all but ignored his prefect duties, telling Pansy to do it herself because she knew he had a mission and was evidently busy. Crabbe and Goyle, unsurprisingly, seemed to be keeping a look out of some sort but, surprisingly, were flat out refusing to divulge even the smallest detail.

Theodore was frustrated.

Then, mere days after Halloween, Theo had an epiphany.

As he had from the moment he saw him on the Hogwarts Express, Theo was watching Draco like a hawk at the time. Truthfully, everyone was, even the Gryffindors, who usually ignored everyone in green. Almost two months, and Draco had already changed in so many small but telling ways that not a single person hadn't noticed. For starters, he was practically mute. He spoke when asked a direct question and no more than one word answers if he could get away with it. He was alone constantly, Crabbe and Goyle by his side only when he needed them to be lookouts and only ever one at a time, but even then, they were never actually seen together anywhere but the Sixth Year boy's dorm when Draco asked for their help. He was ignoring everyone around him, even the Slytherins, which became apparent to the entire school because Pansy, the self-centered slut, wouldn't shut up about the injustice of it. He rarely came to meals, let alone ate. He was missing for hours at a time, sometimes the entire day - not that anyone outside of Slytherin knew that, but still.

But what really got everyone talking was a month into the start of the Year when Draco shot out of his seat at dinner and rapidly made to leave the Great Hall, only to go flying into Longbottom in the doorway. Not exactly stellar gossip, but when Draco then - absentmindedly, Theo noticed, because he was watching Draco so intently - mumbled an apology, the gossips exploded. Longbottom, for his part, looked positively dumbfounded, the Slytherins looked a combination between shocked and appalled, Potter looked suspicious, but Granger.. Granger looked contemplative.

Theo knew, with one look at her, that he'd have to keep her focus on Draco when he took over the mission and disgraced Draco in the Dark Lord's eyes. No way could he have fucking Mudblood Granger breathing down his neck. A suspicious Potter was a pain in the arse, a suspicious Weasley was a joke, but a contemplative Granger was a disaster waiting to happen. Mudblood or not, that girl was fiercely intelligent and most assuredly unafraid of potentially confronting someone who was obviously on the other side if she thought they were up to something.

How to eliminate the Granger threat came to him at the same time as his plan to discredit Draco in the Dark Lord's eyes and take over his mission - Theo's epiphany.

He was discreetly watching Draco over breakfast, as always. So much so that he clocked every single micro-expression on his rival's face. When Granger walked in - dressed quite nicely for a Mudblood, Theo could admit, in a tight t-shirt that showed off her slim figure and made her tits look fantastic - Draco's eyes changed instantly and ever so slightly. If Theo had blinked, he would've missed it, but it was definitely there.

Longing.

Theo Nott may not be as clever as Granger, or as shrewd as Draco, but he was as conniving and manipulative as the best of them. One look at Draco's split-second involuntarily reaction to Granger's presence, and Theo knew _instantly_ how to destroy Draco in the Dark Lord's eyes and keep Granger off his back. He needed to make Draco act on his desire for the Mudblood, as disgusting and perverted as it was. It was one thing to appreciate that a Mudblood had a nice body. It was one thing to lust after them even, if you were in to filth that is. But it was another thing entirely to look at them with longing, to look at them as if they were anything other than a stain upon society, or a means to a end. Evidently, if Draco could look at Granger with anything other than disgust or reluctant lust, then his awareness of his inherent superiority was flawed.

Draco had a weakness.

Theo had an opening.

He could work with that.

Pushing the remainder of his breakfast away, Theo left the Slytherin table with a nod to his Housemates. Thanking Merlin for small favours, the grounds were clear, so Theo Disillusioned himself and headed over to Hogsmeade as fast as he could without raising suspicion.

What Theo needed was a potion or spell to loosen Draco's inhibitions, to act on his desires, despite his mission, the threat to Narcissa's life, and Granger's dirty blood.

A lust potion wouldn't work as Theo highly doubted Granger would let Draco shag her in a broom closet after insulting her for five years. Despite it being all a Mudblood was good for, Granger was a frigid bitch and unlikely to let just anyone have a go on her. Besides, a lust potion would make Draco uncontrollable; if he shagged Granger raw and sated his lust, then that would be that - Theo doubted the boy who saved dying peacocks had it in him to rape her and get himself expelled, unfortunately, so he ruled out that possibility. And if Granger turned him down, which was the most likely outcome, Draco would just end up shagging any willing witch in the vicinity and make do fantasising it was Granger instead. Besides, shagging a Mudblood wouldn't be enough to discredit him in the Dark Lord's eyes; most of the Death Eaters raped the odd Mudblood or Muggle here or there, so Draco having a go on a willing one wouldn't even raise an eyebrow. That Draco convinced Granger, Potter's best friend, to willingly shag a Death Eater, would probably just make the Dark Lord laugh and earn the wanker a pat on the back from the other Death Eaters. So a lust potion could be ruled out.

Amortentia was a good idea in theory. While it would definitely make Draco barmy for the bint and thus ignore his mission, it was also fairly obvious when someone had taken it. Granger would take one look at Draco's awestruck face, hear him profess his undying love for her and his immediate defection to the Order of the Phoenix if she so desired, and come to the most obvious conclusion - insanity or Amortentia. So that could be ruled out, too.

There were several spells and potions that could lower inhibitions and encourage one to act on their desires or play out their fantasies, but they were all either too short-lived, too obvious, or, if cast or given regularly, still not powerful enough to override Draco's basic instinct to stay alive by completing his mission. And that was the whole point - make Draco give up his mission, abandon the Dark Lord, for the Mudblood, and Theo would take his place. Draco would more than likely tell Granger about the mission, but not the plan because Theo would make sure to Obliviate him first, after he convinced the love-struck Draco to tell him what it was, of course. Draco would defect and Theo would steal his glory, and Granger would be distracted by the vulnerable Death Eater that fell in her lap and her curiosity over what Draco's mission was would be abated.

As Theo walked past the Hog's Head and into the woods beyond, he wracked his brain trying to think of something.

The Dark Arts had several less than savoury spells and potions that could probably work, but they all tended to either have severe side-effects or be permanent. While that was no problem for Theo as he couldn't give a shit if Draco pined after Granger for the rest of his life, the spells and potions needed for that sort of commitment were incredibly complex and extremely Dark. Bringing any of those back to the castle, or casting them in it's walls, would be absolutely catastrophic if he was caught. Or if anyone suspected that Draco was under a curse or potion. No, that wouldn't do. If the Dark Lord found out that someone had used the Dark Arts to not only risk the mission to kill Dumbledore and cause one of his followers to defect, but also to intentionally ruin his punishment for Lucius, they would be killed. No doubt about it.

As Theo walked into a small clearing in the forest behind Hogsmeade, he checked the trees for any sign of someone following him. Satisfied that he was truly alone, he Apparated.

Theo appeared moments later in the library of Nott Manor, but didn't take a second look at the rows upon rows of books full of Dark magic. That would be his next stop. Instead, he darted into the corridor and made his way down to the dungeons and the potions lab.

While Thoros Nott was completely useless at even the easiest of potions, and Theo was talented but ultimately uninterested beyond passing his N.E.W.T.s, Thoros couldn't bare to convert the room into something more useful. Theo's mother, Valeria, had loved potions. She had been fascinated with all types but Dark potions in particular were her forte. When she wasn't fulfilling her duties as Lady Nott, or spending time with her beloved husband and son, she was down in her private potions lab, forever tinkering and experimenting. She was truly gifted. Unfortunately, when Theo turned three, she had a terrible accident and passed away. In his grief, Thoros was tempted to destroy the lab that ultimately killed her and probably would've burned the entire Manor to the ground in the process, but Cantankerus, Theo's grandfather, convinced him to leave it be, that despite the tragedy that eventually befell her, Valeria was always happiest when brewing and showing off her skills to her husband and son, and would never want her beloved lab destroyed. Since then, Thoros avoided the room like the plague, except on Valeria's birthday, their wedding anniversary, and the anniversary of her death, when he would spend all day and night in the room, mourning and missing her. Theo, however, went to the room whenever he wanted to feel close to his mother. Visting her grave in a quiet corner of the Manor grounds was comforting in it's own way, but every square inch of the lab was covered in his mother's posessions, decorated to her tastes, and hundreds upon hundreds of potions she created herself were stacked along the back wall, and Theo felt close to her there.

As he entered the lab and made a beeline for his mother's potions, Theo knew that if anyone had a potion perfect for his plans, it would be Valeria Nott. On her desk in the corner, Theo knew, were endless notes on a seemingly infinite number of potions and spells that his mother experimented with. If her potions failed him, Theo would check her spells. Potions that required spell work were always very intense and usually Dark or manipulative in some way. Any spell his mother made a note of was a spell worth checking out.

Four hours and eleven minutes later, Theo found it. The solution to his problems. The three hundred and seventy second potion on the wall and one of his mother's favourites, according to her well-kept notes on the identity and purpose of every potion on the shelves.

 _ **The Augere Amor potion.**_

 _ **A potion of my own design and one of my favourites.**_

 _ **I discovered that one of our house elves was rather taken with another so I decided to test Augere Amor on him, and some of the other elves who harboured no secret affections, and discovered that it works even better than I thought it would! Through intense observation and questioning of all the Nott elves, I came to the conclusion that it works in a slightly different manner than I intended or predicted, but it still works brilliantly.**_

 _ **My aim in the beginning was to create a subtler version of Amortentia, one that didn't turn the drinker into a lovesick buffoon that made it obvious to all that the drinker was clearly under the effects of a love potion/spell. My efforts were highly successful and a true breakthrough in love potions - perfect for mischief! But again, the results were slightly different than I expected.**_

 _ **I decided to test the potion on our neighbours, the Greengrasses, to see if it had the same effect on humans. I gave the potion to Katherine and it had the same results as the elf. The following month, I gave it to Hyperion, and the same again!**_

 _ **While Amortentia creates an intense, obsessive, but ultimately fake love within the drinker for a chosen person, Augere Amor is almost the opposite. My potion expands on real**_ _ **affection. It does not create it! I must stress that. It merely nurtures the potential love that was already there.**_

 _ **While not so intense or obsessive like Amortentia, it appears much more real, and thus, I succeeded! A subtler Amortentia! Almost. Augere Amor encourages the drinker to follow their heart, and cannot make them fall for someone they do not already care for. For example, Katherine and Hyperion were having problems in their marriage for the two years since Katherine's difficult pregnancy with Daphne. Nothing serious, of course, and perfectly normal - their love was simply feeling a little stale. The Augere Amor brought their love back to life, as it were, by slowly filling their heads with thoughts of their love, haunting their dreams with the other's image, bringing back the intense desire for each other that lovers have in the beginning - physically, emotionally, mentally and sexually.**_

 _ **Katherine confessed to me that she has no idea what has suddenly become of her, but she feels like a teenager in love for the first time all over again. Suddenly, she wants to be with Hyperion always, make him happy, make him smile and laugh. She enjoys nothing more than his company and his affections. She even confessed that she can barely keep her hands to herself; she wants to make love to him every moment of the day! I discovered far more about Hyperion that afternoon than I ever wanted to know! The following month, the potion had worn off for Katherine, but I had dosed Hyperion a few days prior. It seems the effects were the same for Hyperion. Katherine informed me that while the sudden rush of love and giddiness she felt for that month had worn off and her mind had returned to it's normal state - she was no longer filled with a burning need to be with Hyperion every moment of the day, and could successfully keep her hands to herself in public - it had helped her marriage greatly. Her love for Hyperion, and his for her, had grown inexplicably during that month, and when Hyperion's potion also wore off, it remained so, at least for a while.**_

 _ **It appears that Augere Amor is a trigger. Amortentia creates a fake but all-encompassing, obsessive love for a chosen person. Augere Amor makes it impossible for the drinker to avoid their feelings for their love any longer, or to let outside forces affect them (such as propriety in public!).**_

 _ **The house elves had the same result. While the house elf I tested my potion on did not love the object of his affections, he had a small crush on her. Augere Amor brought that to the surface and he found he could no longer help himself, he simply had to be with her.**_

 _ **On the other hand, the other house elves who held no such affections for another, felt absolutely nothing. No effects of any kind for the entire month. It would appear that Augere Amor is definitely a trigger, not a drug like Amortentia.**_

 _ **While I confess that Augere Amor is not quite a subtler Amortentia, for it can only work on those that harbour affection for someone and can only affect how they feel towards that person, as opposed to whomever the potioneer decides like Amortenia, I still consider it a success! I have successfully brewed a potion that can cause a small crush to naturally, but rapidly, bloom into what appears to be love. While I would love to market it and tell the world of my findings, unfortunately I cannot, for some of the ingredients necessary to make it are highly questionable, if not downright illegal. Unfortunate, but not the end of the world.**_

 _ **I told Thoros of my discovery and he used it on a colleague of his, a rival, whom he knew harboured a small crush on a half-blood. A half-blood! It's truly cruel of my husband to cause his colleague such disgrace by falling for such a witch, but that is my darling husband.**_

 _ **While the subjects of my experiments had lasting effects when the potion wore off, Thoros's colleague broke off his disgraceful relationship with the half-blood witch, despite the affection he no doubt held for her after the Augere Amor.**_

 _ **While under the effects, the drinker will find themselves unable to avoid their love any longer, but as soon as it wears off, they are in their right mind again, and can choose to leave their love if they choose, so I have not created**_ _ **real**_ _ **love, just the illusion of it as the affection the drinker has for their love grows stronger. If Thoros was to drug another colleague into falling for a half-blood or - Gods forbid - a Mudblood, it would appear that he would have to continuously do so until the drinker thought himself irrevocably in love and chose to truly disgrace himself and marry the animal, or until Thoros had accomplished his aims and made his point.**_

 _ **Evidently this potion can be used as a marriage aid, as in the case of Hyperion and Katherine, causing them to fall in love all over again after they re-lived their teenage infatuation and the honeymoon period of their marriage. Or for mischief, as in the case of the house elf, pushing him to act on his secret affections and desires for his love. Or for revenge, as in the case of my dear husband's rival and his ruined reputation after bedding such an inferior witch.**_

 _ **Yes, Augere Amor is definitely one of my favourite creations! And better yet, it is completely untraceable!**_

 _ **Augere Amor must be administered once a month, every month - one drop.**_

 _ **Valeria Evangeline Nott**_

Theo held the small vial in his hand and double checked the dosage. One drop once a month. Judging from the size of the vial - the one and only vial - Theo estimated that he could drug Draco for two years if he so chose. He wouldn't, of course. He intended to drug Draco just long enough to completely ruin him, then stop. Theo would watch as Draco disgraced himself, as his mother put it, by falling in love with his filthy little Mudblood and becoming a blood traitor. A Malfoy - a blood traitor! The idea appealed to Theo greatly. It was the perfect plan. Draco would fall in love with the Mudblood - Harry Potter's Mudblood, no less! - and abandon his mission, defecting to the Light to please his _love_ , becoming a blood traitor in the process. Slytherin House would turn against him completely for that alone, which was an added bonus. Theo would take over Draco's mission, kill Dumbledore, and be the Dark Lord's most favoured follower, surpassing even his father, maybe even that mad bitch Bellatrix. Of course, Narcissa would die if Draco defected, which was a shame because Theo always quite liked her. Lucius would probably be given the Kiss as the Dark Lord controls the Dementors, but there's no great loss there, especially considering the wanker completely cocked up that skirmish in the Department of Mysteries, landing Thoros in Azkaban..

Maybe even Bellatrix will be killed, being Narcissa's sister. Now that would be the icing on the cake. To completely destroy the entire Malfoy family while putting the Notts back in good standing with the Dark Lord and crowning Theo the new Slytherin Prince. Then, when the Dark Lord defeated Potter, Mudblood Granger would die slowly while Draco watched. Mother dead, father Kissed, girlfriend butchered in front of him, family name tarnished.

Draco would have nothing left.

And Theo would have everything.


	2. Chapter One

**A/N:** This chapter contains suggestive sexual content.

* * *

 **Amor**

 _By WaitTilMyFatherHearsAboutThis_

* * *

 **Chapter One**

* * *

One Month Later.

He wasn't sure when it started. When he stopped watching her to see what the Mudblood and her boyfriends were up to and started just watching _her_. When he stopped trying to best her in class because she was a Mudblood and he was a pureblood and started just trying to keep up with her. When he stopped picking fights with her because she was an irritating, stuck-up Mudblood Gryffindor and started doing it because he found perverse enjoyment in seeing her riled up; her eyes ablaze, her cheeks flushed, her insane hair almost crackling with her magic and anger. When he stopped finding her seemingly endless knowledge of anything and everything annoying and started to find it commendable. When he stopped finding her unwavering loyalty to Potter and her obsession with doing the right, honourable thing ridiculous and started to find it endearing.

He wasn't sure when the rat's nest she called hair started to appeal to him. When her regulation length skirt and knee-high socks became sexier than the long, toned legs the Slytherin girls flashed at every opportunity. When her baggy jumpers that swamped her frame became far more tempting than the tight shirts and abundance of cleavage he saw on most of the girls at school.

He wasn't sure when he started to watch her so intently. When he started to count the slight smattering of freckles on her nose when she yelled in his face. When he started to compare her eyes to melted chocolate he wanted to drown himself in when she glared at him. When he started to want nothing more than to tangle his fingers in her ridiculous hair and see if it was truly as soft as he had started to think it was. When he started to want to kiss her full lips when she was spitting venom at him. When he started wanting to touch her smooth skin and hold her small hands.

He wasn't sure when he stopped caring about her blood.

He wasn't sure when he started to wish she was a pureblood, or that she was Sorted into Slytherin, or that his parents didn't care one way or the other about blood purity. All he knew was that when he found himself thinking one day that being a Gryffindor wouldn't be so bad, he was fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

It may have been when she slapped him and awakened in him so many conflicting emotions that even he couldn't have guessed what he was feeling.

It may have been when she turned up to the Yule Ball looking so damn beautiful that even the Delacour girl, the part-Veela, couldn't hold a candle to her.

He wasn't sure when things changed for him. It may have been gradual, it may have been all at once. But either way, things had changed. _Everything_ had changed. He could no longer convince himself that following in his father's footsteps and becoming a Death Eater was what he wanted. He could no longer convince himself that he believed in the cause, in blood purity.

Because of her.

Because of her and his pain in the arse infatuation with her, he was adrift. He was a Death Eater but didn't want to be. He was fighting for blood purity, for the eradication of her and those just like her, when he couldn't care less anymore. He was on a mission from the Dark Lord to kill Albus Dumbledore but he knew that if he succeeded, she would be in even greater danger than her blood and her friendships and her allegiance already put her in.

He may not be sure when it all started for him, but he was beginning to suspect how it would end.

For a long time, the strength of his infatuation for her had only gotten stronger. As the years passed, she grew into herself; she became more beautiful, more brilliant, more powerful, more graceful, more confident, more self-assured. And he had noticed.

But for the last month, since Halloween, his infatuation was worse than ever. He couldn't stop thinking about her. Couldn't stop watching her out of the corner of his eye. He found himself desperate to touch her, to talk to her, to kiss her, to lose himself in the smell of her perfume. To see her smile at _him_ , to blush for _him_ , instead of that undeserving idiot Weasel. To rid her of that baggy jumper and that perfectly proper skirt and those bloody knee-high socks and caress and kiss and lick every fucking inch of her. His dreams were full of images of her on her knees in front of him, taking him in her mouth. Of him burying his face between her thighs. Of her moaning and gasping his name, his _first name_ , as she came on his fingers. Of her licking those luscious lips as he laid her down on his green satin sheets. Of her raking her nails through his hair as he slammed her against the wall and kissed her hungrily. Of sinking into her cunt and making her his. Almost every shower he's taken since Halloween has been a cold one.

But he didn't just want to touch her, didn't just want to see her face as he made her come, didn't just want to hear her cry out in pleasure and moan his name. He didn't want to carry on some secret, illicit affair. But it would never work. He was a pureblood, a Slytherin, a Death Eater. She was a Muggleborn, a Gryffindor, a member of the Order of the Phoenix and Potter's best friend. They were from opposite worlds. On opposite sides of a _war._ If he continued on the path his father set for him, he would never stand a chance with her. She'd take one look at the Mark on his arm and run for the hills, probably stopping just long enough to slap him again first.

But he couldn't change his allegiance. If given a chance, he would. Happily. In a fucking heartbeat. But if he did, his parents would be killed and he would end up the same way as Karkaroff - Crucio'd to death and his body left in a shack in the middle of nowhere to be feasted on by rats.

As it stands now, a relationship with her would never work, and that knowledge was the worst kind of torment. After so long spent watching her, wanting her, to finally be ready to throw caution to the wind and have her, to hell with his parents and his friends and his Housemates, only to have the threat to his parents' lives ringing in his ears, keeping him from her.

No, Draco Malfoy didn't stand a chance with Hermione Granger. And it was killing him.


	3. Chapter Two

**A/N:** This chapter contains suggestive sexual content.

* * *

 **Amor**

 _By WaitTilMyFatherHearsAboutThis_

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

* * *

Draco Malfoy was a stubborn arsehole.

One month gone. One drop of potion gone. And Theo was no closer to getting what he wanted.

Oh, there had been progress, certainly. Theo had seen Draco watching Mudblood Granger's arse as she waltzed down the corridors, something he was careful to never do before the Augere Amor because Theo would definitely have noticed if he had. Had seen him watching her covertly at meal times, which he was suddenly coming to again, the reason seemingly being just so he could steal glances at Granger. Had witnessed him bolting out of his seat and rushing to the potions storeroom the moment Granger went in, just for an excuse to be close to her. Had witnessed him surreptitiously smell Granger's hair one morning when they were filing through the doors of McGonagall's classroom for Transfiguration.

Theo had noticed how long Draco took in the shower each day, and had definitely noticed the tent in his pants that he had tried to hide every morning for the last month. Had noticed that Draco had taken to casting a Silencing Charm around his bed every night, so Theo had poked his head through Draco's bed curtains the other week and overheard him mumbling about Granger in his sleep.

Theo had not been oblivious to Draco latching on to him with barely-veiled enthusiasm whenever he went to the Library, and had noticed that whichever table they sat at had an unimpeded view of Granger every time.

And Theo had most definitely noticed Draco holding the door open for Granger after Arithmancy last week, to which he was rewarded with another of those contemplative, curious looks - although he studiously ignored both Granger's wide-eyed gaze and Theo's own suspicious glance - and a murmered thank you, which made his lips twitch up into a smile the moment Granger left the room that he immediately suppressed when he caught Theo watching him.

Based on the changes in Draco's behaviour for the last month, Theo was certain that his mother's potion was working, but that Draco was somehow holding himself back as much as he possibly could around Granger instead of fawning all over her. That meant the stubborn prick was fighting the overwhelming desire the potion inspired to snog the bushy-haired bint until they both died from oxygen deprivation.

Theodore Nott had patience. A lot of patience. After all, he'd befriended and cultivated Draco since they were tiny, just like Thoros had told him to, despite hating the bastard with a passion. He also put up with Crabbe and Goyle without ever raising his voice, which Theo doubted even the most patient person on the planet could manage on a regular basis, hence why Draco and Blaise, two men known for their selfishness and impatience, snapped at the pair at least twice a day.

But after a month of patiently waiting for Draco to give in to the inevitable and make a move on the Mudblood, Theo was getting angry.

Apparently Draco needed a push. But how the hell to go about it without raising suspicion? Draco, after all, knew that Theo fully supported the Dark Lord and believed in blood purity wholeheartedly, therefore he knew Theo would _never_ encourage him to pursue his muddy perversions unless he was up to something huge. So Theo had to be sneaky.

Swinging his legs over the edge of his bed, Theo sat up and pulled open the bottom drawer of his bedside cabinet. After fishing out a bottle of Ogden's Finest, he transfigured a quill into a tumbler and poured himself a healthy measure.

Settling back on his bed and leaning against the headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him and his fingers tapping on the side of his glass, Theo let his manipulative mind wander to making Draco do what Theo needed him to do. All without Theo giving himself away..

. . . . . . . . . . .

Blaise Zabini loved the Hogwarts Astronomy Tower. For one, the rest of the student body rarely ventured up there because the Bloody Baron enjoyed clanking around it. While polite and occasionally downright friendly to the students in his House, the Baron tended to make the other students - and even the majority of the ghosts - wary of entering the tower outside classes the majority of the time. Two, the view was fucking fantastic.

As Blaise leaned over the railing and admired said view, he smiled to himself as he recalled the moment he decided the Astronomy Tower was his favourite place in all of Hogwarts.

On the night of the Yule Ball in Fourth Year, he was feeling especially confident after several not-so-small sips of the flask full of firewhiskey that Draco smuggled into the Great Hall. The combination of dutch courage, having the gorgeous Daphne Greengrass flirt shamelessly but harmlessly with him all night, and Pansy Parkinson loudly admire his physique in a pitiful attempt to make Draco jealous and draw his attention away from getting shitfaced with the Slytherin Quidditch team, had prompted Blaise to make a move on the stunning Renee Marquis.

While Blaise was arrogant, egotistical and more than aware that he was one handsome fucker, the witch he had had his eye on was truly beautiful. Not as much as the Delacour girl, but considering Renee didn't have the added bonus of Veela blood, the fact that she was almost as stunning as her friend was a testament to her beauty. Blaise had taken one look at her when the Beauxbatons delegation arrived and vowed that he would find a way to snog that bloody witch by the end of the Year or he'd die trying.

After several minutes of flirting and innuendo-filled conversation, Blaise had suggested they take a walk. Instead of heading out to the grounds where all the other couples were shagging in the rose bushes, he had taken Renee to the Astronomy Tower. Nervous as hell - not that he would ever let it show; he'd rather Crucio himself - he had been unusually honest and confessed that he loved just looking at the Hogwarts grounds and taking a few moments to himself, admitting to her that Hogwarts felt more like home than any of his mother's villas.

Renee had been captivated by the view, charmed by his honesty, and impressed by his bravery in approaching a witch three years his senior the moment her date's back was turned.

Blaise lost his virginity that night to one of the most beautiful witches he had ever seen, and since then, he took to visiting the Astronomy Tower, his new favourite place in the castle, whenever he craved some peace. And Salazar knows that with You-Know-Who back and his friends and Housemates flocking to his cause, that had been more and more often lately.

Overlooking the Black Lake and surrounding landscape, the view was truly humbling. Especially at night. So after his success with Renee, Blaise had used the Astronomy Tower view to his advantage more than once to seduce a witch.

Merlin, the sheer amount of girls Blaise had got out of their knickers with minimal to no effort because of that 'wonderfully romantic' view..

So yes, Blaise Zabini loved the Hogwarts Astronomy Tower.

Just as Blaise was fondly remembering last Saturday night, when he bent the beautiful Padma Patil over the very railing he was currently leaning against and she screamed his name so loudly as she came that he was certain the Merpeople were going to make an appearance and demand he shut her up, his inner musings were cut short by the sound of voices and scuffling feet coming up the stairs.

"Why do we 'ave to walk all the way up 'ere?" Vincent Crabbe whined.

Blaise heard a grunt that must belong to Gregory Goyle.

Theo Nott sighed impatiently. "For privacy, fools. I need to talk to you both and I can hardly do that with a Common Room full of First Years, can I? And Draco is in the dorm so we can't talk there, either. Now come on and stop moaning. Last I checked, the Baron was dealing with Peeves so the tower should be empty, but I don't know how long it will stay that way. Now move your arses."

"What about Blaise? 'E's always up 'ere," either Crabbe or Goyle asked sullenly.

"Shut the fuck up or he'll hear you. And if he is up there then we'll just tell him Davis was looking for him or something. I couldn't give a bloody fuck, just move!" Theo hissed, seemingly too agitated to lower his own voice as he had just ordered his companions to do.

Blaise was intrigued. Theo was just as irritated by Crabbe and Goyle's idiocy as he was most of the time, though he resolutely refused to lose his temper with the pair like Draco often did. Not that Draco, or Blaise for that matter, treated the pair poorly, but sometimes Crabbe and Goyle's lack of any common sense whatsoever was too grating to withstand snapping at them. Theo, however, never did. He either walked away to regain some semblance of sanity, or he grit his teeth and powered through.

To hear Theo bark orders at them was jarring, and Blaise's Slytherin tendencies to listen, to _learn_ , were kicking in. The only time Theo had lost his patience with Crabbe and Goyle was when the news broke that his father, Thoros, was being sent to Azkaban after being captured at the Ministry trying to kill Potter and his friends. Theo had been absolutely livid. It was frightening, actually, though Blaise would never admit it.

Theo was a friend, but a bit of a lone wolf. He preferred to keep to himself most of the time and actually paid attention in class, whereas Blaise chose to spend classes with his hand up the skirt of whichever lucky witch was sat beside him. Theo was quiet, patient, and while he was just as much a Slytherin as the rest of them, he seemed a calm, level-headed bloke. Until Thoros was arrested, and Theo viciously ripped in to anyone and everyone in a ten foot radius.

While Crabbe, Goyle and Millie preferred to physically hurt someone when irritated, and Parkinson and Daphne preferred to spread rumours and gossip to destroy someone's reputation, and Draco preferred to hit someone where it hurt with a single perfectly-aimed comment and watch as their insecurities took over, and Blaise and Tracey preferred to reign in their irritation and charm someone into doing what they wanted, it became obvious after Thoros was arrested that when Theo lost his patience, he preferred to verbally eviscerate his victim. Crabbe and Goyle had pushed Theo too far too soon after Thoros's arrest and had thus been treated to a run down of every single way they were inadequate, what everyone truly thought of them, and a scathing prediction of their future if they continued to be, well, themselves. It was brutal. Even Draco thought so, and considering he made it a point to prey on even his own mother's weaknesses and use them to manipulate her into giving him what he wanted, that was truly saying something.

So if Theo was losing his patience with Crabbe and Goyle now, then something was seriously wrong, and Blaise, being the Slytherin he was, wanted to know.

After two years of sneaking up to the kitchens for sweets for midnight feasts and smuggling enough Firewhiskey into the castle every Hogsmeade weekend to drown a dragon, Blaise was brilliant at the Disillusionment Charm. Truly masterful. So he cast it.

Seconds later, Theo, Crabbe and Goyle came storming into the room, Theo looking agitated and Crabbe and Goyle looking moody and exhausted.

As Crabbe and Goyle slumped down on the steps beside the giant globe suspended in mid-air, Theo quickly cast a Silencing Charm and a spell Blaise didn't catch but assumed was to alert the trio to someone approaching the tower.

"We need to talk about Draco," Theo said without preamble.

"What about 'im?" Goyle asked, surprised.

"Have either of you noticed him acting differently lately? The last month, specifically."

Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other blankly, then turned that same look on Theo.

Although Blaise couldn't see his face, he could safely assume that Theo rolled his eyes, as he tended to do in Crabbe and Goyle's presence.

"Right. Let me dumb this down for the pair of you because evidently you're too fucking thick to comprehend the magnitude of this," Theo hissed as he began pacing back and forth.

Crabbe, Goyle and Blaise jolted almost imperceptibly at the venom in the man's tone, and Blaise quickly realised that Theo was even more agitated and irate than he had first thought.

"Pansy told me that on the train, Draco was bragging to her and Blaise about not having to continue on at this shithole of a school next year. Alluding to being of service to the Dark Lord, instead. But we already know that's true; I think we can safely assume he was talking about his mission. Then, for two months, he all but disappeared to complete said mission."

Blaise listened intently, unable to believe the importance of what he was listening to. _Draco has a mission? From who? For what? Not You-Know-Who, surely? He isn't even of age. No, they can't be talking about You-Know-Who. What would_ he _want with an underage wizard? Next year, sure, maybe. But Draco can't even fucking Apparate, yet._

"Evidently, it wasn't going as well as he hoped because he started to skip meals, ignore everyone, hardly ever slept and has already had a couple of detentions for not doing his homework.

"Then he fucked up and that Gryffindor got cursed. What the fuck Draco was thinking, I don't know. At the time I thought he was just panicking because it had been over a month and he hadn't succeeded in his mission, and we all know it's a bad idea to keep _him_ waiting."

Crabbe and Goyle nodded along, clearly already aware of everything Theo was saying.

Blaise, however, was not. _Draco was the one to curse Katie Bell? Why? What the fuck for?_

Blaise wasn't oblivious to Draco's strange behaviour since returning to school, and it had crossed his mind that Draco was up to something. It had even crossed his mind that Draco had been the one to hurt Bell, but Blaise had quickly dismissed the thought, convinced that his friend wouldn't hurt an innocent girl, despite his big bad Death Eater talk. For fuck's sake, he had walked away from Granger in Third Year without any retaliation whatsoever, despite the fact that she had just punched him in the face and had been his bitter enemy since Day One, whereas Bell had never done a thing to him, as far as Blaise was aware, and had ended up in St. Mungo's. Draco was acting suspicious, yes, but it just didn't make any sense to Blaise that Draco had hurt her. But apparently he had, though she wasn't the intended target, as Draco had 'fucked up'..

 _'Over a month and nothing had happened'? Bad idea to keep_ who _waiting?_

Sensing he had struck the eavesdropping goldmine, Blaise quickly cast a Silencing Charm on himself, lest he make any noise and alert the three wannabe-Death Eaters to his presence. Blaise was convinced, after hearing just a snippet of their conversation, that if the trio were to find out he had been listening, he would be beaten up, _Obliviated_ and sent on his merry way.

"But now, I.. I'm wondering if it wasn't something else. Something worse."

"Huh?" Goyle asked in-eloquently. It was a rare occasion indeed when Blaise found himself internally echoing the sentiment as Crabbe scowled in confusion.

"Draco cursing Bell," Theo replied impatiently. "I heard snippets about his plan in the aftermath; I was listening in as he was explaining himself to Snape. Apparently, Draco Imperiused Bell, gave her some cursed necklace, then sent her on her way. But Draco didn't do the Imperius right or something because Bell's mate got worried about her acting weird and tried to take the necklace from her, and somehow Bell ended up touching it and got herself cursed."

Theo ceased his pacing and turned to look at Crabbe and Goyle, who straightened up and paid attention, obviously recognising that Theo was in no mood to be trifled with today.

"The entire plan reeks of desperation. Or stupidity. And Draco is the furthest thing from stupid. It was a fucking ridiculous plan that was bound to fail. I mean, even if Bell hadn't cursed herself and had made it back to the castle, are you honestly telling me that a necklace Dark enough to land the bint in the hospital wouldn't have been picked up by Filch's Dark Detectors? I realise the man is a pathetic waste of space, but even he can't be so stupid as to miss _that._ And what about Dumbledore? He would've seen that coming from a mile away. And what if Bell ran in to any professors on the way? Are you telling me that Snape or McGonagall or Flitwick wouldn't have recognised that necklace for what it was?"

Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, then at Theo, and seemed to be deep in thought. Either that, Blaise mused, or they were having a shit.

"I just.. I assumed he must have talked himself into a panic and acted rashly. Draco is far too clever to honestly believe that that necklace would've worked."

Theo suddenly sagged and sat down on Goyle's left, bending over to rest his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands between his open legs. At the same time unconsciously positioning himself in the perfect spot for Blaise to see his face. He looked calculating and worried and fed up and angry all at once.

Theo turned to the two boys next to him and said, "Draco has been acting really weird for the last month. All of a sudden, he's started coming to meals again, he's sleeping better, he's actually paying attention in class. For the first week, I thought it was brilliant; his mission was going well and he wasn't going to inadvertently starve himself to death in the process."

Crabbe and Goyle nodded along as Blaise took several silent steps closer to the three now that Theo was no longer pacing anxiously and spitting venom.

"But then I looked closer. We've been friends for as long as I can remember, and while I don't spend all my time with him like you two do, or fawn all over him like Pansy, or fly with him at the weekend just the two of us like he does with Blaise, I know him, and I know when something's up. And something is definitely up. He's coming to meals again, but he doesn't eat. He's in bed for a solid eight hours every night once again, but I've seen him cast a Silencing Charm when he thinks we're not looking, and he still wakes up every morning looking like an Inferi. And while it looks like he's paying attention in class, I've tried to talk to him several times and it's as if he can't even hear me. It takes saying his name a good ten times before he jumps and realises I'm even there."

Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other with vaguely concerned expressions while Blaise thought back on the last month and reeled, realising that Theo was telling the truth.

Blaise had noticed that Draco was withdrawn at the beginning of the Year, and had asked him several times if something was up, only to receive the same _"For Salazar's sake, will everyone just fuck off? I'm fine!"_ response every time. But Blaise had been less concerned for his friend of late, having also noticed that Draco was eating and sleeping more now. He also didn't disappear to who knows where at odd hours of the day and night. But Theo now had Blaise even more concerned than he was before.

 _What the hell is wrong with Draco? According to Theo, he's not eating or sleeping or paying attention in class.. He's also not been flying with me at all this Year.. He's been getting less and less patient with Parkinson and her simpering bullshit.. Shit.._

Blaise had, wrongly as it turned out, assumed that whatever was bothering Draco at the beginning of the Year had gotten better. But if what Theo was saying was true, apparently nothing had changed.

"What I want to know," Theo began, "is why, if he's coming to meals again and supposedly sleeping again and all that crap, is he still just as distant and preoccupied as he was when his mission appeared to be going to hell? Why, if the mission is indeed at a standstill, is he wasting his time coming to the Library with me most nights, spending hours and hours doing homework for grades that won't mean shit when he completes his mission? Why, if everything with his mission is going to plan, if he's been working on it, haven't you two gits been his lookouts at all this last month as you were throughout September and October?"

Crabbe and Goyle looked at Theo with expressions that conveyed their shock and fear as Theo eyed the pair knowingly. For his part, Blaise was stunned. By all accounts, this mission Draco was on had inadvertently cursed a girl so badly she ended up in hospital, had caused Draco so much stress that he was almost a different person, and had required Crabbe and Goyle to keep an eye out to such an extent that when their lack of involvement was pointed out to them, they looked _scared_. Whatever the mission was was undoubtedly bad. And incredibly important.

But Theo made it sound as if Draco had been neglecting it for the last month. But if it was so important that Theo had sought out Crabbe and Goyle for a serious conversation about it, and all three were more than concerned by Draco's negligence, then Theo made a good point - why the hell was Draco wasting his time in the Library every night, or attending meals he had no interest in eating, when he could be working on this mission of his instead?

"What I want to know is why Draco looks as stressed out and.. _forlorn_.. as he did just before the Bell girl got cursed, yet he's neither skipped a trip to the Library with me, despite the fact that he could use that time to work on the mission, or asked you two to keep an eye out for him. What has got Draco so wound up and distracted if not the mission going badly? And if the mission _is_ going badly, then why the _fuck_ isn't he working on it?"

Crabbe and Goyle gave each other an unusually long and surprisingly complicated look before turning back to Theo with suspicion in their eyes.

"Exactly," Theo all but whispered. "What the hell is wrong with Draco?"

"I dunno.. I.. I didn't really notice anythin' diff'rent.. I mean, 'e's been weird all Year, so I 'aven't really been paying 'im much attention the last month. I just assumed it was 'is mission that was botherin' 'im," Crabbe said slowly, shrugging one beefy shoulder.

"Me, too." Goyle nodded along. "He's been different this Year. Quiet. Keeps to 'imself most o' the time. I ain't noticed nothin' odd this last month in particular.."

"Me, neither," said Theo, bouncing his leg up and down agitatedly. "But he refuses to tell me anything. Do either of you know anything about Draco's plans to complete the mission? I'm assuming Goyle told you about what he and I heard this summer, Crabbe. So do either of you know anything about how Draco plans to go about it? Anything at all?"

Both boys shook their heads.

"We just keep a lookout, you know that," Goyle murmered as Crabbe nodded.

"Fuck," Theo muttered, turning to face the view.

Blaise panicked for a split second as Theo looked right at him, before rolling his eyes at himself as he remembered that he was invisible.

The trio stayed quiet for a few long minutes and Blaise moved to sit cross-legged on the floor just out of reach of his Housemates, should they jump up unexpectedly.

"You don't think.." Theo began, a thoughtful and decidedly _mean_ look on his face.

"Think what?" Goyle asked as Crabbe grunted.

"You don't think.." Theo started slowly, his eyes seeing something that wasn't the view in front of him. "You don't think that he's changed his mind, do you?"

He turned to look at the boys beside him, who looked blankly back.

"Do you think he might be having second thoughts about the mission? ..Do you think he's changed his mind about being a Death Eater?"

Blaise was eternally grateful that he had thought to cast a Silencing Charm on himself, for there was no fucking way in hell that he could've prevented the sudden whoosh of air that left him in the wake of Theo's question.

Theo thought Draco didn't want to be a Death Eater? That.. That was..

Crabbe and Goyle looked confused, before Crabbe grunted, "Well it's a bit late, innit? 'E's already got the Mark."

Blaise slowly closed his eyes and let the information that his friend was nothing more than a child soldier sink in. He couldn't believe it. Well, he could believe that Draco was on You-Know-Who's side, considering who his parents, aunt and uncle were. But that he had already signed up? That he had been branded like cattle? That he _wasn't even of age_ and had been drafted into a fucking _war?_ That this mission he was on was clearly from fucking _You-Know-Who himself?!_

No wonder Draco has looked so bloody _ill_ this Year..

Theo made a non-committal noise and the three lapsed into silence once more, Crabbe and Goyle looking confused and Theo looking calculating.

Blaise really didn't like the look on the latter's face. Theo, Crabbe and Goyle were firmly on the side of You-Know-Who, as was Parkinson and several others in Slytherin. Blaise, however, was determinedly and openly neutral, and he knew that despite the assurances that his Housemates on the Dark side didn't care, they all thought he was a coward and a traitor. _Especially_ Theo. If Draco was indeed having second thoughts, if he was considering, even for a second, running, Theo would not hesitate before turning him in to his Lord, and Draco would be killed.

Theo stood up to leave and gestured for the other two to follow him. As they silently left the room, Blaise was lost in his musings about Draco and drowning in his tumultuous emotions in the wake of everything he had overheard.

Because Crabbe and Goyle pushed ahead, quietly mumbling to each other about grabbing some food from the kitchens, and because Blaise was deep in thought about Draco, none of them noticed the satisfied and sadistic smile on Theodore Nott's face.


	4. Chapter Three

**A/N:** This chapter contains suggestive sexual content and implied multiple mariticide.

* * *

 **Amor**

 _By WaitTilMyFatherHearsAboutThis_

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

* * *

Before Crabbe and Goyle could duck off to the kitchens, Theo grabbed the two by an arm and quickly yanked them through a tapestry and into an alcove. Casting a Silencing Charm at the entrance, he turned to face the pair.

"I think we should keep what we discussed in the tower to ourselves for now," Theo began.

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged a look.

"Shouldn' we talk to Draco 'bout why 'e's been actin' weird? I mean, that was the whole point 'bout goin' up to the tower for a chat, wasn' it?" Crabbe asked somewhat nervously.

"Of course, but I think we should hold off for a bit longer," Theo replied diplomatically. Crabbe and Goyle were idiots, yes, but they were loyal idiots, and they were genuinely concerned for Draco. "Give him a few more weeks, see if anything changes."

"But what if he's in trouble? What if he really has changed his mind or summat?" Goyle asked anxiously.

"Think about it. If we approach Draco now and start butting our noses in his business, when, for all we know, everything could be going completely fine with the mission and it's something else that's bothering him, something private, Draco will get defensive and you know it. If we start demanding answers, Draco will write to Narcissa, who will inform the Dark Lord that the three of us are asking questions we have no right to ask, and we'll all be punished."

Crabbe and Goyle shivered slightly, both well aware from conversations with their fathers what the ramifications of disobeying the Dark Lord are, and more, what his 'punishments' entail.

"And worse," Theo continued, "if Draco gets the wrong end of the broomstick and accuses us of meddling, possibly even attempting to take the mission from him by making accusations as to his loyalty, he'll again write to Narcissa, who will inform the Dark Lord, and we'll all be punished. Heavily."

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged a fearful look before turning that look on Theo.

"So are we agreed?" Theo asked, hoping that the idiots would just accept it and shut the hell up. He would hate to _Obliviate_ them just in case Blaise came asking questions. It would raise suspicion if Theo appeared concerned about Draco and sought out Crabbe and Goyle's advice, only to _Obliviate_ them immediately afterwards. "We keep our concerns to ourselves for now. Just until we can determine one way or the other how Draco is doing and how the mission is going. We wait a while longer, keep an eye on him, and if nothing changes and Draco is still behaving oddly, then we confront him and convince him to let us help him. Agreed?"

After several tense seconds, Crabbe and Goyle reluctantly nodded. It was truly commendable, Theo thought, how loyal those two could be. It was less commendable that neither of them considered for a single moment how odd it was that one minute, Theo was adamant that something was seriously wrong with Draco and they should help, then the next minute, he was adamant that they should back off. Theo knew that if he were talking to any other Slytherin, even Draco, distracted as he was, they would have immediately known that he was playing a game, even if they didn't know what the game was. Fortunately for Theo, Crabbe and Goyle were thick as shit.

As the pair headed off to the kitchens after a distracted wave good bye, Theo remained in the alcove.

A few minutes after Blaise walked past, so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't even realise he'd almost knocked Professor Flitwick on his arse, the Bloody Baron materialised through the opposite wall and drifted towards Theo.

"Well met, Baron," Theo tipped his head respectfully.

"Well met, Lord Nott," the Baron replied, extending the same courtesy. "I trust your conversation went well?"

"Very. Thank you, Baron, for lending us your tower, and for informing me as to Blaise's location."

"Of course. I have noticed the young Lord Malfoy has been acting most unusual this year. I fear for his health if he continues in this vain. I trust the Zabini fellow was agreeable?"

"Yes, Baron. Together with Misters Crabbe and Goyle and myself, we have concluded that something must be done to help Draco. We also fear for his health, as you know."

The Baron nodded slowly.

"Mister Zabini has taken it upon himself to reach out to Draco. They are close friends. Closer than Draco and I, or Draco and Misters Crabbe and Goyle. Draco has refused my counsel and assistance. Perhaps Mister Zabini will have more luck."

"I do so hope that will be the case," the Baron said solemnly. "I do not like fearing for the students in my House. If you had not approached me when you did, I would have sought out the counsel of Professor Snape regarding the odd habits and general unease and ill health of Lord Malfoy. Best to keep this within our House, if possible."

"Most definitely, Baron. The other Houses and professors tend to misunderstand the nature and politics of we Slytherins. They would likely barge in and demand explanation. They lack all form of subtlety at the best of times, and such an approach, particularly in this instance, would be unthinkable to a Snake and the worst course of action."

"Mmmm." Theo could have sworn he saw the Baron's lips twitch.

"Please keep me abreast of Mister Zabini's efforts, Lord Nott. I am loathe to admit there is little I can do to assist one of our own -"

"As am I," Theo inserted with feigned anxiety.

The Baron acknowledged his interruption with a nod. "I shall keep an eye on Lord Malfoy, just as you and your associates will. Hopefully Mister Zabini shall succeed where you have failed and I am unable, and Lord Malfoy will be himself once more."

"Let us hope," Theo said. "I shall certainly keep you informed of Mister Zabini's efforts, and of any news regarding the continuing deterioration of Draco."

"Thank you."

"I am loathe to make such a speedy exit, Baron, but I must be getting back to our House. No doubt Draco will be hoping for another study session in the Library tonight. Considering what we have just discussed, I would prefer not to keep him waiting, so I can keep watch over him. However scant my watch may be."

"Of course. Good night, Lord Nott," the Baron said with a slight bow.

"Good night, Baron" Theo replied, similarly bowing slightly. "And I thank you once again for your assistance in this matter, and for the use of your tower."

With a final nod, the Baron disappeared through the wall beside him, allowing Theo to leave the alcove and head down to the Slytherin Common Room.

As he walked, Theo reflected on his plan to lure Blaise into convincing Draco to defect, thus furthering Theo's own agenda.

Blaise claimed to be neutral, to want to wait until one side or the other came out on top. Every Slytherin knew this. Theo, however, was not quite convinced. He was willing to bet his life - which he was technically doing because if Blaise worked out he was being played and confided in Draco, Draco would immediately realise that Theo was sabotaging him and inform the Dark Lord. Thus, death - that Blaise was secretly hoping Potter will win this war. Ridiculous, of course, but Theo was certain that's what Blaise was counting on. After all, Blaise enjoyed the good life. He was cunning and manipulative and charming and ambitious, yes, but he was also a simple man with simple needs. Blaise Zabini enjoyed bedding beautiful women, eating the finest food, drinking the finest Firewhiskey, dressing in the finest Italian robes, flying with his friends and generally living the life of a typical rich kid. When extremely pissed and under Veritaserum Truth or Dare, Blaise had told Theo, Draco, and the other Slytherins in their Year that he was content to simply enjoy his life, and further than that, he wasn't too fussed. He planned to live life in a whirlwind of ecstasy and overindulgence before settling down in his vineyard in Tuscany with a stunning wife and enough kids to start his own Quidditch team, pulling just enough strings politically to ensure everything went his way.

If Potter won the war, Blaise could bugger off to Italy and do whatever the hell he wanted. If the Dark Lord won the war, he would demand that everyone submit to his rule, that every pure-blooded witch or wizard joined his ranks to take over not just the British wizarding community, but the entire wizarding world. Theo knew this, and he was willing to bet that Blaise knew it, too. Therefore, Blaise's insistence that he was neutral, that he favoured neither side, was bullshit in Theo's opinion, and really, his opinion was the only one that mattered, anyway.

Blaise was also a blood traitor. Not that anyone else saw him that way, but Theo did. Blaise's best friend, aside from Draco, was Tracey Davis, the half-blood filth of Slytherin House. Theo could not understand how Blaise could bring himself to pursue a friendship with such a witch. Theo himself only tolerated Davis's presence and held his tongue on her having ideas above her station, such as her crush on Blaise, a pureblood, on the off chance that she became useful later in life or married well.

Half-bloods, Thoros had often said, were acceptable because they were usually raised in the magical world, so despite their blood, they weren't entirely tainted by the Muggles. And especially in recent times, half-bloods have become more and more prominent at the Ministry and various companies and charities. Thoros had impressed upon Theo that having as many eyes and ears as they could, and greasing enough palms, was the best way to maintain the influence the House of Nott held. Half-bloods, he said, were useful spies, and thus, shunning them for their inferior bloodlines, while tempting, was short-sighted, not very Slytherin, and unbecoming for a Nott.

Mudbloods, however, were not to be tolerated under any circumstances, for they were little more than clever apes; they had somehow learned to use magic the way monkeys had learned to use tools, but that in no way made them our equals. They may be clever. They may be talented at magic - like Granger, Theo had mused when Thoros had explained to him about the uses of half-bloods and Mudbloods after his First Year - but they are still animals. Half-bloods could be useful, but never let them encroach. Mudbloods were simply not tolerated, not for any reason whatsoever.

The fact that Blaise had not only befriended Davis, and Bulstrode for that matter, but treated her the same way he treated Draco, treated her as an equal, made him a blood traitor in Theo's eyes. Blaise had forgotten his place with Davis, and Theo had lost all respect for the man.

Plus, the 'neutral' thing.

With his cowardly ways and his lackadaisical views on blood superiority, Theo knew that he could count on Blaise to use his close friendship with Draco to convince the latter to think about defecting.

Falling for the Mudblood placed the seed of doubt in Draco's mind about his loyalty to the cause and his commitment to pureblood supremacy. Blaise and his blood traitor ways could only nurture that seed. With his feelings for Granger growing stronger every day thanks to the Augere Amor, and Blaise in his ear about turning away from the Dark Lord, Theo was confident that Draco's determination to stay away from Granger would falter.

Soon, he'll either run with Blaise, or switch sides to be with his beloved Mudblood. Either way, Theo won.

. . . . . . . . . . .

For the next few days, Theo watched Blaise the same way he had watched Draco at the start of the Year. As such, he knew the exact moment Blaise worked out that Draco wasn't just doubting his allegiance to the Dark Lord, but his entire belief in blood superiority.

Three days after Blaise 'overheard' Theo's conversation with Crabbe and Goyle in the tower, Theo noticed the way Blaise's eyes flickered between Draco and Granger at dinner in the Great Hall. He noticed the way Blaise's eyes widened comically when he caught the same longing in Draco's eyes that Theo himself had done, this time magnified by the potion in Draco's system.

And Theo most definitely noticed the resolve in Blaise's posture when he jumped up from the table with a growl that he was going to the Owlery.

Yes, Theo thought with vicious satisfaction, Blaise was playing right into his hands. And soon, Draco would follow.

. . . . . . . . . . .

As Blaise rushed toward the Owlery, he tried - he really, truly tried - to understand what was going on with Draco and how in the hell he was supposed to help him.

In the space of three days, he'd discovered that his friend was not only dangerously unwell, as Blaise had woken up at the crack of dawn for the last three days to see for himself if Draco looked 'like an Inferi' every morning, which he did; but was also a child soldier drafted to the Dark side of a war that is going to tear the country apart before it ends; is on a mission from You-Know-Who that has already almost _killed_ a girl; is not doing that mission, thus making him a target if Theo, the You-Know-Who fanatic, finds proof of his waning loyalty to his side; but is also doubting everything he's ever believed in if he's looking at Granger like that.

Fuck.

When Blaise noticed the look in Draco's eyes when the blonde glanced at Granger, he was halfway convinced he was actually still fast asleep in the dorm and the entire day had been a bizarre dream. How could Draco, the prejudiced, pure-blooded son of Death Eaters, the man who bullied the Gryffindor Threesome for their entire time at Hogwarts, the man who was cordial and friendly with Tracey and Millie but who kept his distance because of their half-blood status, look at Granger, the Mudblood best friend of Harry fucking Potter, a leader of Dumbledore's Army, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, the fucking _Gryffindor Princess_ , like that? How could Draco, who believed in blood purity more than Blaise ever had, look at Granger will that level of painful longing? As though one look at her as she entered the Great Hall was both the best part of his day, and the most devastating?

As he trudged up the familiar dirt path to the Owlery, amused despite himself that it was pouring down with rain just as he was dealing with such conflicting thoughts and emotions, Blaise tried to reconcile everything he had learned.

One, Draco was a Death Eater. But Blaise was certain he didn't want to be. Theo had apparently been watching Draco for a month and if he had come to doubt Draco's allegiance, even just a little, then there was a reason. Theo was irritatingly observant and persistent, so if he thought there was a reason to doubt Draco's loyalty, then there was a reason to doubt Draco's loyalty. _Especially_ as he had chosen to confide in and seek advice from Crabbe and Goyle, two people who Blaise knew Theo hated and considered complete idiots, for all that he usually maintained a friendly and patient front with them.

Two, Draco was on a mission. A mission that he was apparently ignoring. A mission that almost killed an innocent girl.

Three, Draco was ill. Really, truly ill. Thanks to Theo, Crabbe and Goyle's conversation, Blaise had watched Draco more closely the last three days, and he had seen what he hadn't before. Draco had bags under his eyes despite getting a good night's sleep every night, though that was debatable as Blaise, like Theo, had since noticed the discreet Silencing Charm Draco cast around his bed every night.

Blaise had also noticed, first thing in the morning, before Draco drowned himself in a huge bathrobe and made a mad dash to the bathroom without looking at any of the other four boys in the room - an act that was entirely out of character as Draco enjoyed making his presence known and had never in his life been self-conscious about his body - that he was painfully thin. The day before yesterday, Blaise had been watching Draco's bed intently for the moment his friend woke up, and had gotten the shock of his life when the blonde had pulled back his bed hangings.

Draco's hair was lank and lifeless. His cheeks were sunken. His skin ashen. The bags under his eyes even more pronounced. But the worst had been how thin he was. In the split second before he rapidly covered himself and left the room, Blaise could have actually counted Draco's ribs. Being a Seeker and having a naturally long and lean body type, Draco had always been slim, but never once had he been so skinny that his _ribs_ were poking out. That, more than anything, terrified Blaise, because Draco had the biggest sweet tooth Blaise had ever seen. Even more so than Crabbe and Goyle. Blaise had often accused Draco of having hollow legs for all the sweets the man ate that miraculously never made him put on weight. Blaise had also noticed that while Draco filled his plate to bursting at every meal, as always, instead of eating it, he merely moved the food around his plate, having two or three small mouthfuls at most, giving everyone at the table the impression that he was eating, but in fact, he was barely eating enough for an infant.

Yet upon his return from the bathroom, Draco looked like himself again. His hair wasn't styled to it's usual perfection, as it was before Sixth Year, but it was no longer lifeless. His cheeks weren't sunken and his aristocratic features looked the same as ever. His skin was as pale as ever, but no longer ashen and sickly. The bags under his eyes were still there, but significantly less noticeable.

But Blaise had seen the way his uniform was slightly crumpled, something that was 'just not done' by a Malfoy. His robes were hanging off his lithe frame, another thing that would never have been acceptable to Draco prior to this Year, as he had every item of clothing he owned meticulously fitted. Even his silk boxers were the perfect size, for Salazar's sake!

So Blaise had drawn the only conclusion he could, one that was enough to cause him to toss and turn all night last night, managing only a measly hour and a half of sleep; Draco was sick, and he was using Glamour Charms to cover it up as best he could. But there weren't enough Glamour Charms in the world to hide the fact that he had lost a substantial amount of weight in a short amount of time.

Blaise had seen Draco over the Summer, at the beginning of July, and the two had spent the weekend at Elora Zabini's villa in Ravello. His mother had spent most of the summer in Spain with who was shaping up to be Husband Number Eight, so Blaise and Draco had spent the weekend drinking, playing poker, and lounging by the pool, sunbathing. Blaise had gotten a good look at Draco's body, what with the heat making it impossible to wear a shirt when simply milling about the house, and Blaise knew - _knew_ \- that Draco hadn't looked so painfully thin back then.

Four, Draco Malfoy was half in love with Hermione Granger.

As terrified as Blaise was for Draco, he honestly could not wrap his head around what the fuck _that_ was about. He was desperately trying to reconcile his concern and - though he'd never admit it on pain of death - love for Draco, and his fervent wish that his friend was well and happy again, with his own prejudices.

Mudbloods were inferior. They were just Muggles that could do magic. They were.. Wrong. Weird. Odd. Much like Squibs, they were simply abnormal. Anomalies. Again, much like Squibs, they were unfortunate, shameful things that happened every now and again, that one shouldn't acknowledge or speak of.

Blaise didn't _hate_ Mudbloods. He didn't even hate Muggles. He was just of the fervent belief that they were 'other', and should be kept separate from real witches and wizards. Hell, he didn't even truly think they were inferior, necessarily, not when he considered Granger. That witch was fucking brilliant. Anyone who disagreed was a fool, and Blaise did not envy whichever poor sap ended up on the other end of her wand when the war heated up. He had seen what the bint could do in class. He had heard the stories of her adventures with Potter and Weasley. Trolls and Cerberus and basilisks and Werewolves and murderers and Death Eaters. So no, Blaise couldn't honestly say that she was inferior when he knew that if he were being honest with himself, he would be dead ten times over if he'd been through the same shit that Granger had.

Draco had once thought the same about Mudbloods.

There were variations to the prejudice. Some, like Crabbe and Goyle, Theo and his father, and Draco's Aunt, were of the firm belief that Muggles and Mudbloods were animals, less than human. Others believed, much like Blaise and Draco, that as long as they stayed in their own world and left real witches and wizards alone, live and let live. Others simply didn't care, you either did magic or you didn't.

Hence, why Blaise know stood in the Owlery, wrinkling his nose in distaste as the smell of droppings and half-eaten mice invaded his senses.

Antonio Ricci was Elora Zabini's fourth husband and the one and only halfblood, not that many people knew that. Antonio had taken a seven-year old Blaise under his wing and insisted that if Blaise wanted him to be his father, then Antonio would be his father, blood be damned. Fortunately for both Antonio and Blaise, the former had escaped Elora's clutches before he could die suddenly and from highly mysterious means. But even though he had divorced Elora, he had been adamant that he made Blaise a promise and he would see it through. To this day, Blaise received endless Christmas and birthday presents from the man, letters every week checking up on him, a shoulder to cry on - figuratively, of course, as Blaise never cried - whenever he needed it, and a place to go whenever Elora and her neglect became too much, which was most of the time.

Blaise loved Antonio. He loved the man more than his own mother. More than anyone in the world. He didn't give a flying fuck as to the man's blood status, just as Antonio couldn't care less that Blaise wasn't really his.

As Blaise composed a letter to his father asking for his advice about blood prejudice and Muggles, trying his damnedest not to sound too condescending and disrespectful, he mused about what the impact of Draco's crush had had on him.

Antonio had a Muggle father that he loved dearly, and who he based his entire belief system around. His father, Raphael, had often wanted to meet Blaise, knowing how much he meant to his son, but Blaise had been more than hesitant. After all, the man was a _Muggle_.

Tracey, Blaise's best friend and, in his heart of hearts, the woman of his dreams, was also a half-blood. Tracey adored her Muggle grandmother and had often begged Blaise to meet her and see for himself how Muggles were _not_ inferior or different. Muggles, Muggleborns, half-bloods, pure-bloods, Squibs, aren't different, they're all human, Tracey had screamed at him during Christmas break of Fifth Year. But still, Blaise had been hesitant.

After all, Draco, his other best friend, would _never_ speak to Muggles. He'd never even joke about it. Nor would Crabbe, Goyle, Theo, Parkinson, Daphne, and the majority of Slytherin House. Luciana Zabini, Blaise's grandmother, would have wrung his neck if he had voluntarily consorted with Muggles, had she been alive to see it. Elora, for all that she failed as a mother, would have been disgusted by him.

So Blaise had always refused Antonio and Tracey's requests and kept his distance from their Muggle relatives.

Even Tracey was a stretch for Elora and Draco to accept. When her blood status had become known a few weeks after they started at Hogwarts, Draco had remained friendly and polite and would immediately jump to her defence if one of the other Houses ever dared to insult her, but he also kept his distance, lest she encroach. Elora had welcomed her into their home during the summer before Fourth Year, but the second she was out of earshot, had insisted that if Blaise wanted to be her friend, that was fine, if he wanted more than that, that was acceptable as she was from a very wealthy family, but to never give Tracey the impression that he could offer more than a fling because that was unkind, unless he planned to marry her for the gold then make her disappear much the same way his step-fathers had. But most importantly of all, to never, _ever_ , breed with her, lest the Zabini's be forced to endure the shame of having a _Muggle_ in the family, however distantly.

As Blaise tied the letter to a leg of a large brown owl, he reflected that he _must_ be doing the right thing.

Right?

If Antonio and Tracey loved their Muggle family, then they couldn't be that bad, right? And if Draco, a _Malfoy_ , could fall for a Mudblood, then they must be acceptable.. Right?

Blaise looked out of the window and watched the owl fly away with the letter begging Antonio to help him move past his prejudices for Draco's sake attached to it's leg.

Blaise ran an agitated hand over his face, hoping against hope that when Antonio's reply came, Blaise could move past his prejudice long enough to help Draco. After all, if he projected his own prejudices onto Draco when he confronted him about this mission and Granger and the Dark Mark and all the other bullshit, and caused his friend to feel ashamed and dirty for his feelings towards Granger, then Draco would become defensive. And a defensive Draco was a stubborn Draco. And a stubborn Draco was likely to complete this mission and completely immerse himself in the Death Eaters simply to prove to Blaise that he was loyal and would never care for Mudblood filth.

Blaise left the Owlery praying to the all the Gods, the Founders, Merlin, Nimue, anyone and everyone who was listening, that he could move past his prejudice and encourage Draco's romance with Granger. Because Blaise had a feeling that the only reason Draco was even considering defecting was because of her. And Blaise had no compunction whatsoever about using Draco's feelings for the Gryffindor Princess to convince his friend that being a Death Eater was a bad move.

Draco, who was the furthest thing from a cold-hearted killer, had already almost killed Katie Bell. And Blaise would be damned if he was about to let his friend become nothing more than a murderer.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Walking into the Library two days later, Blaise quickly noticed Draco's distinctive hair and moved towards him. Draco was bent over an essay, his hair in his eyes, at a table that, unsurprisingly, had a perfect view of Granger.

As he approached, Blaise felt very much like he was walking to the gallows. It didn't help that he knew the conversation he was about to have would go one of two ways; either Draco would heed his advice and get out while he could, or he would get defensive, do the exact opposite, and damn himself.

When Blaise reached the table, he was tricked into a grin when he realised that Draco hadn't even noticed him stood right next to him because the view from this angle was one of not just Granger, but right down Granger's shirt. Blaise had to hand it to the girl, she had a nice rack.

His grin was wiped from his face when he turned back to Draco and was reminded of why he was there.

"Draco," Blaise said, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder to get his attention.

Draco jumped slightly and turned to look at Blaise. As the latter looked closely at the blonde's face, he swallowed hard as he was reminded that it was covered in Glamour Charms.

Draco's eyes widened slightly at what was undoubtedly a miserable expression on Blaise's own face.

"Blaise.. Is everything alright?"


	5. Chapter Four

**A/N:** This chapter contains references to rape, gang-rape, torture, cannibalism, attempted murder, and murder.

* * *

 **Amor**

 _By WaitTilMyFatherHearsAboutThis_

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

* * *

Draco almost jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Instantly he was flooded with embarrassment that he was so distracted by the sight of Granger's phenomenal cleavage out of the corner of his eye that he had failed to hear someone come up right beside him.

He whipped around to see who it was, forcing the guilt from his face and replacing it with his usual blank mask. But then he caught sight of Blaise's face. The man looked positively miserable and, though Draco couldn't be sure, almost.. hurt?

"Blaise.. Is everything alright?"

Blaise swallowed hard before replying, "Not really, mate. Can we talk?"

"Yeah, of course we can," Draco said anxiously, a deep frown on his face, alarmed at his friend's expression. Blaise wasn't one for being miserable. In fact, he went out of his way to never feel such a thing, usually by shagging some bint in some dark corner of the castle, flying with Draco, or, if things were really bad, usually when his mother was involved, dragging Tracey into his bed and having her read to him until he regained his equilibrium. The fact that Blaise was openly miserable, and, more than that, actually wanted to talk about it, was just.. Alarming, frankly.

Draco pulled out the chair beside him but Blaise was already shaking his head.

"Not here. Somewhere private."

"Okay.." Draco said, dragging out the word. "Quidditch stands and Silencing Charm?"

"No," Blaise said with a vigorous, agitated shake of his head. "Somewhere _private_. Somewhere even the portraits and ghosts - hell, even the house elves - can't hear us."

Draco couldn't have kept the nervous expression from his face if he tried. Whatever was bothering Blaise was clearly beyond bad. What's more, Draco's initial reading of Blaise was correct; the man was hurt. Really hurt. And it was now written all over his face for the world to see, which was so un-Slytherin it was almost blasphemous.

"I.. I know a place we could go.." Draco said hesitantly, his need to help his friend warring with his fervent wish to never set foot in that place again for any reason.

"Then let's go. Now." Blaise said as he scooped up Draco's stuff for him without a second thought, dumped it all unceremoniously into his bag, and made to leave the Library.

Against his will, Draco's eyes flickered to Granger, who, he saw with a jolt, was looking right at him with an almost concerned expression. Draco couldn't help the elation he felt in that moment, as Granger looked at him with something other than hate or suspicious curiosity, and instantly felt like the worst friend in the world.

Reluctantly tearing his eyes away from Granger, Draco quickly stood up, almost knocking his chair over in his haste, and hurried after Blaise.

Just outside the Library doors, Draco momentarily grabbed Blaise's jumper and tugged him to the left. Together, they headed up to the Seventh Floor and along the corridor. Blaise leaned against the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping his foot impatiently, as Draco paced in front of the expanse of wall opposite three times and summoned the Room of Requirement.

The moment the door appeared, Blaise grabbed Draco's forearm, swung open the door, almost smacking Draco in the face in the process, and yanked him into the Room before Draco had a chance to so much as reach for the door handle.

Draco eyed Blaise apprehensively as the latter threw himself down on the black leather sofa and immediately pulled a bottle of Firewhiskey from his bag.

Slowly walking through the replica of the Slytherin Common Room, Draco made himself comfortable on the opposite sofa as he mentally asked the room for two tumblers. When they appeared beside Blaise, the Italian didn't so much as raise an eyebrow, despite never having been in the Room of Requirement before, and simply poured himself and Draco a more than generous measure.

Accepting a glass from a distracted Blaise, Draco murmered his thanks as he sat in tense silence with his best friend for several long moments.

Eventually, Blaise looked Draco dead in the eye and spoke.

"I know you fancy Granger."

Draco immediately wiped all emotion from his face and raised his Occlumency shields. Every muscle in his body inadvertently tensed, and he knew Blaise noticed. He wasn't prepared for this. He knew that he wasn't hiding his emotions around her as well as he should be but he just couldn't help it. The stress of everything was getting to him, and it was only made worse by the fact that even in his dreams, Granger was haunting him. Draco had known that he would eventually slip up and someone would notice the way he looked at the Gryffindor Princess, but as it stood now, considering he was bone-tired, sick, terrified, and generally fed up with life, he couldn't bring himself to stop watching her. He could kick himself for that oversight now. He should have known people would be watching him this Year, and in fact, he _did_ know that. But something inside him, something far too powerful, was screaming at him to snog the bloody shite out of the witch and make her his. Looking at her, watching her, was the only way he could get his fix and guarantee that he didn't completely snap and do something unbelievably stupid - like throw Granger down on the Gryffindor table in the middle of dinner for everyone to see and bloody fucking ravish her.

It was inevitable that someone would notice. But that didn't mean Draco was going to just come out and confess to his traitorous thoughts.

He scoffed, "What the fuck are you talking about, Zabini? I don't fancy Granger. She's a Mug-Mudblood." He wanted to slap himself for stumbling over the insult. But truthfully, since he had come to care for her so much, he couldn't stomach the word. He couldn't bare to even think it in regards to her, because she was just _so much more_ than that. "She's a bushy-haired, buck-toothed, know-it-all Gryffindork. A filthy little Mudbl -"

"I know you have the Dark Mark," Blaise continued as though Draco hadn't spoken, not looking at him but down into his glass, as though it held all the answers.

Draco froze.

Blaise rested his glass against his thigh and looked right at him. Holding his gaze, his repeated, "I know you have the Dark Mark. I know you have some mission from You-Know-Who, though I have no idea what the specifics are. I can guess that it's bad, though."

Blaise leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped around his Firewhiskey between his open legs. He held Draco's gaze.

"I know you nearly killed Katie Bell.. Draco, you could have _killed_ her. That necklace _tortured_ her. She's in a _coma_ at St. Mungo's."

Every word out of Blaise's mouth felt like knives. Draco struggled to control his breathing, to keep his face impassive, to not react. But this was Blaise. This was his best friend. And he _knew._ Blaise _knew._ Knew about Draco's biggest mistake, his biggest regret, his darkest secret, his deepest shame.

Months spent terrified of the Dark Lord, of the monster living in his house, threatening him and his mother, torturing and murdering indiscriminately. Months spent planning and plotting to kill an innocent man, working on that fucking cabinet, trying to save his family's lives, trying not to think about becoming a monster himself, a murderer. Months spent wishing and hoping and praying that things were different, that things would get better, that the Dark Lord would disappear once more, that he and his family would survive the war. Months spent agonising over the things he's seen, the things he's heard, the things he knows he'll have to do, too.

Months spent pining after Granger, wishing he could be with her, wishing he had never met her just to end the torment, wishing he wasn't a Death Eater or she wasn't a Muggleborn so maybe he stood a chance, wishing more than anything that he could turn back time and talk his father out of joining the Dark Lord and believing in blood purity so he could have been with Granger _years_ ago without any of this complete _bullshit_ standing in his way.

Months spent barely eating, barely sleeping, barely talking.

Over a month spent hating himself for what he did to Katie Bell. Over a month spent wishing he could take it back, wishing he had never been so fucking stupid, wishing _he_ had been the one to get cursed just to end his fucking _misery_.

Months of fear and pain and shame and regret. Months of wishing he was good enough for Granger, that she would look his way just _once_ and really _see_ him. Months of screaming and crying and shaking in the night because the stress was _killing_ him. Months of wondering if dying would be worth getting out of the Hell his life had suddenly become.

And now Blaise. Now, Blaise, his best friend and the only one he ever felt he could be himself with, his best friend who he had been lying to for months, his best friend who he wished more than anything didn't know what Draco had done, what he was, what he was going to do, what he had become. Blaise was looking at him with his thoughts clearly written all over his face. Fear, sympathy, concern, anger, sadness, hurt.

Everything he had been through, done, said, felt, seen, heard, over the last few months hit him all at once in the face of his best friend's pain. And it was too much. It was _too much._

Draco's mask crumbled to nothing as he broke down in broken, body-wracking sobs, his head in his shaking hands.

After several minutes of silence, save the anguished cries that Draco tried to reign in, Blaise spoke.

"I didn't realise the great Draco Malfoy would be so broken up about hurting some halfblood."

Rage filled Draco. He raised his head and glared incredulously at Blaise, not noticing his friend's pained expression at the sight of Draco falling apart.

"It.. It doesn't fucking matter what her fucking blood status is, Blaise!" Draco spluttered. "She.. She's a _girl_.. She's.. She's just a fucking girl, Blaise! An innocent fucking girl who I almost fucking _murdered!_ I don't _care_ what her blood status is! I wouldn't care if she was a fucking Muggle! She's just a _girl!"_

Blaise just eyed him knowingly, seeming unsurprised by his outburst. "I guess Granger isn't an exception, then. Seems your prejudices aren't quite what they used to be, mate. In more ways than one."

Draco looked at Blaise in confusion before realising what he'd said. _'I wouldn't care if she was a fucking Muggle!'_..Shit.

"I never told you that Antonio was a half-blood, did I?" Blaise said off-handedly, leaning back against the sofa once more, absentmindedly swirling his Firewhiskey around the glass where it rested on his thigh.

Draco paused in his rising panic that he'd just confessed to a blood purist about apparently no longer being a bloody blood purist, and once again looked at Blaise in confusion.

Draco knew about Antonio, of course. The weekly letters Blaise received from the man and enough Christmas and birthdays presents over the years to gift a small nation were a bit of a give-away, even if Blaise didn't mention him at least once a day.

"Antonio is a halfblood," Blaise continued when he had Draco's full attention. "He has a Muggle father. One he loves and respects very much.. Tracey loves her Muggle grandmother. Thinks the world of her, in fact.." Blaise took a big gulp of his Firewhiskey and sucked a breath in through his teeth as he felt the liquid burn down his throat.

"Antonio and Tracey have both tried to convince me to meet their Muggle family members. Insist that they're the cat's pyjamas and all that.." Blaise sighed heavily and took another swig of his drink before looking at Draco with a conflicted, almost pleading, expression.

"I'm trying to overcome my prejudices. Trying to move past it.. Now, Granger.."

Draco bristled at what he suspected was a scathing comment about how Muggles are fine as long as they're far away, and Muggleborns are fine as long as they're with their _own kind._ Based on the smirk teasing the corner of Blaise's mouth, his friend knew exactly what Draco was thinking.

"Now, Granger," Blaise repeated, the smirk coming to life. "Granger is a contradiction if there ever was one. She's a Mud-Muggleborn, yet she's better at magic than every student in this place and half the staff, to boot."

Draco's eyebrows shot up. Blaise, like everyone in Slytherin, except Tracey once at the Yule Ball in Fourth Year, had _never_ paid a Muggleborn a compliment. Especially not Granger. And that was a hell of a bloody compliment.

Blaise smirked at Draco for a second longer before it fell and he looked at Draco seriously. "It's hard to see a witch like her as inferior. As unworthy of her magic. As abnormal, or a mistake, or an outsider. No one with any sense can argue that she doesn't belong in this world, not with how powerful she is.. I ignored her for a long time because she challenged my prejudice. You know I'm not like Nott, or Crabbe and Goyle. I don't think Muggles are animals. I don't think Muggleborns are filthy or inferior. I just think they shouldn't be with real witches and wizards. At least, I _did_.. I'm trying.. Draco, you spouted off about her inferiority and her filthy blood but I know damn well you never honestly thought of her that way because she's shoved you out of her way plenty of times and you haven't run to the bathroom to scrub off the filth like Crabbe and Goyle have. You don't think of yourself as _contaminated_ if a Muggleborn gets too close to you like Nott or Parkinson do.. I.."

Blaise swallowed the rest of his Firewhiskey and set the glass on the end table before running his hands over his face and crossing his arms over his chest.

"I saw how you looked at Granger the other day," Blaise said quietly. "I saw the look in your eyes. I admit that it threw me. I mean.. It's _you_. You may not wish all the Muggles and Muggleborns in the world dead like your father does, or Nott or Parkinson or Crabbe and Goyle, but you sure as hell haven't been subtle in your contempt of them. I.. It was a lot to get my head around.. But if I'm being really honest with myself.."

Draco watched Blaise struggle for words. An unsettling sight considering the bloke's record of talking a total stranger - a completely sober total stranger. Blaise was by no means a gentleman, but he had enough of a noble streak that he didn't prey on the vulnerable - out of her knickers was nine minutes. Blaise was _never_ lost for words. The prat always had something to say, though admittedly it was usually charming, flirtatious bullshit.

"If I'm being really, brutally honest with myself.." Blaise continued in a faraway voice, as though he was talking to himself rather than Draco. "I can see why you like her."

Draco jerked back, literally lost for words, but Blaise pressed on, oblivious.

"She's smart. Way too smart for normal people, just like you.. She's pretty. She's got a hell of a body on her if those Muggle jean things she wears are anything to go by. Though you'd never know it in that hideous uniform of hers.."

Draco silently disagreed, the image of her cleavage from his spying in the Library still firmly on his mind. He wiped impatiently at the lingering tears in his eyes.

"She's unwaveringly loyal to Potter.. She's.. Well, she's a Gryffindor, so she's all noble and good and honest and shit. Personally, I prefer my women a bit more manipulative.. But Granger's got a bit of Slytherin in her, doesn't she? Remember what she did to that Edgecombe bird? And Umbridge?"

Draco and Blaise exchanged a significant look. Revenge was common enough in Slytherin, but lifelong facial disfigurement for telling a secret? That was brutal. Being led into a trap in the Forest so you could be gang-raped by centaurs for being a miserable, evil cunt? Even the Slytherins thought that was a bit much.

"Are you gonna say anything, mate? Cause I feel like all I've done is talk while you've sat there staring at me," Blaise drawled after a few seconds of silence.

"So you.." Draco croaked haltingly. He pulled a monogrammed handkerchief from his trouser pocket and wiped impatiently at the tear tracks on his face and his running nose before taking a big swig of his Firewhiskey. He looked at Blaise once more, who was watching him with an unusually open expression. "You know I like Granger.. but you don't care that she's a Muggleborn?"

Blaise shook his head, "I'm not gonna lie to you, Draco, I care. I can't help it. I've been raised to see a relationship between you two as the worst thing ever, just as you have. But I'm trying really hard _not_ to care, mate.. But I've seen the way you look at her, and you like her, Draco. You like her a hell of a lot. And if being with her would make you happy, then I'd be happy for you, sincerely, regardless of her blood."

Draco nodded slowly. The fact that Blaise wasn't sneering at him in disgust, calling him a blood traitor and a disgrace to pure-bloods everywhere, was more than Draco could expect from most of the pure-bloods he knew, including his own parents. The fact that Blaise was actually trying to move past his prejudices and be _happy_ for him was more than Draco ever hoped for when he resigned himself to the fact that a chance to be with Granger was more important than any of his friends. Honestly, Draco was impressed with Blaise's loyalty to their friendship.

"So.. If I ever decided to be with Granger.. Publicly.. We'd still be friends? Publicly?" Draco asked to confirm.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Of course we would. I just told you that I'm trying my damnedest to get over her blood status. I'm not gonna go through all the effort of re-evaluating my entire bloody belief system because you fancy Granger, just to turn my back on you if you actually manage to bloody shag her," Blaise said with exaggerated exasperation.

Draco smiled self-deprecatingly at Blaise's pointed stare.

"You gonna talk to me about that Mark on your arm, now?"

Draco sighed. "What do you want me to say, mate?"

Apparently this was the wrong thing to say, because Blaise suddenly poured himself another glass of Firewhiskey, violently, and downed it in one. Refilling his glass for a third time, he glared at Draco, who looked apprehensively back.

"I dunno, mate," Blaise said, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Why don't you tell me why the fuck you signed up to be a child soldier? Or why the fuck you joined a group hell bent on raping, torturing and butchering the very girl you're half in love with? Or why the fuck you _nearly killed_ a classmate? Or why the fuck you're pining after Granger, Potter's best friend, a Muggleborn, co-leader of Dumbledore's Army, member of the Order of the Phoenix, if you're a _fucking Death Eater?!_ Why don't you start there, Malfoy?!" Blaise had been getting steadily louder and his chest was now heaving as he downed yet another Firewhiskey.

Draco copied the action, feeling the familiar burn down his throat, warming him. "I don't know what you want me to say, Blaise.. I joined the Death Eaters because my father.. My father.."

Blaise sighed heavily. "Your father.. Yeah.. Enough said, brother.. Sorry," he added, a genuinely apologetic and sympathetic look on his face.

It was Draco's turn to sigh. His father.. To Blaise, that was explanation enough.

"What about Katie Bell, Draco?" Blaise asked anxiously. "You.. You fucking _broke down_ when I mentioned her.. What the fuck _happened_ , mate?"

Draco drank more Firewhiskey and rubbed a hand over his face, feeling more tears gathering in his eyes at the mention of the girl who haunts his nightmares. Granger haunts his dreams, his every waking thought. Bell haunts his nightmares. Draco couldn't get fucking Gryffindors out of his head.

"Bell.. Bell was an accident. A horrific accident. I-I made a mistake. I.. I can't tell you anything, Blaise. Not about what happened. Not about why she had the necklace to begin with. Not about my mission from the Dark Lord.. I.. I'm sorry, Blaise. I'm so fucking sorry for what happened to her," Draco whispered, impatiently wiping away more tears.

Draco heard Blaise sniff before feeling the sofa dip as Blaise sat next to him. The next thing he knew, he was hunched over, his head between his knees, gripping his hair anxiously as sobs wracked through him. He could hear Blaise shift uncomfortably beside him, could feel his friend's hand on his shoulder, and just cried harder.

After several long minutes, Draco's tears subsided and he turned to Blaise as the latter offered him a handkerchief.

"Thanks," he murmered.

Blaise patted his shoulder and poured them both more Firewhiskey.

"Draco," he started before taking a sip and accepting his handkerchief back. "Mate, you need to get out. I mean it. You can't be a Death Eater."

Draco snorted. If wishing to not be a Death Eater anymore meant you were suddenly no longer a Death Eater, he'd be halfway to Romania by now.

"Draco, you're gonna get yourself killed. Your fancy new beliefs are going to get you _killed._ How are you going to watch a halfblood or Mud-Muggleborn _girl_ \- a girl just like Bell - be _tortured,_ be _raped_ , be _murdered_ right in front of you at one of those revels -"

Both boys shivered.

"- Without giving away how you really feel? How are you gonna watch something like that without being sick? Without crying? Without wanting to rip your own eyes out? Mate.. You need to get out."

"I can't -"

"Of course you can!" Blaise interrupted.

"No, Zabini, I fucking can't!" Draco shouted angrily, leaping up from the sofa and standing in front of Blaise. "If I don't complete this mission, he'll kill my mother! Do you get that? I have to do this or I might as well kill my mother myself! My own mother, Blaise!"

Blaise looked up at him in confusion for a moment before saying, as though Draco was being particularly thick, "Well it's obvious, isn't it?"

At what was no doubt a tortured expression on Draco's face, Blaise elaborated.

"Draco, mate, why don't you just tell Granger what's going on?"

"What?" Draco spluttered, certain he must have misheard.

"Draco, not only is Granger brilliant, and powerful, and apparently has a thing for the underdogs of the world -"

"House elves," Draco muttered with a small smile.

"Weasley," Blaise smirked, tricking a laugh out of the blonde.

"Draco, Granger is Potter's best friend. A member of the Order of the Phoenix. McGonagall's favourite. One third of Dumbledore's favourite threesome."

Draco glared and Blaise smirked.

"Mate, Granger has ties to a hell of a lot of powerful people, and they have ties to even more powerful people. If you convinced Granger to help you, she would go to Dumbledore, who would go to the bloody Minister of Magic if he had to. Draco, just tell Granger the truth and have the Order or the Ministry extract your mother from wherever You-Know-Who has her."

"She's at the Manor," Draco mumbled distractedly, considering Blaise's words.

"The Manor? But if You-Know-Who is threatening her, he'd be keeping an eye on her, surely? So that.. must mean.." Blaise's eyes widened and Draco nodded jerkily.

"Fuck," Blaise whispered under his breath. "Shit, Draco, that's.. Shit."

Draco just shrugged. He didn't want to talk about it. Didn't want to even think about it. He'd broken down twice in front of Blaise in the space of one night, he didn't want to make it three times. He had _some_ dignity left.

"Anyway, I mean it, Draco. Go to Granger. Tell her everything. Get her to help you get your mother away from You-Know-Who so you can get out." Blaise suddenly smirked evilly, "And while you're at it, get the lioness to shag you and put you out of your misery."

Draco laughed and sat back down on the sofa beside his friend.

A few seconds later, Blaise must have sensed Draco's hesitation because he spoke again.

"What exactly do you plan to do when you complete this mission of yours? When you become a full-time Death Eater? When you're told - because you _will_ be told - to kill someone? A halfblood or Muggleborn or blood traitor? An innocent girl like Katie Bell? Someone you _know?"_

Blaise leaned over, his elbows on his knees and knocked back some more Firewhiskey before staring into his glass as he continued.

"What do you plan to do if Granger is captured? She's Potter's best friend and a Muggleborn, to boot. If the Death Eaters can get their hands on her, they will. So what do you plan to do if they catch her? You've seen what they do, but I can guess well enough. Fuck knows I've heard Crabbe and Goyle talk about some of the things their fathers have seen and done.. What will they do to her if they catch her, Draco?"

Draco was silent. He didn't want to talk about this, didn't want -

"Draco," Blaise snapped. "What will they do to her if they catch her?"

"They'll.." Draco began, wanting to be sick. "They'll hurt her. Torture her. Probably r-rape her. The Dark Lord would.. would kill her slowly.. He - He might throw her to Greyback. Let him e-eat her alive or - or turn her or.. She.. She'd die screaming.." He finished in a whisper, his knuckles white around his glass and his hands shaking.

Blaise took a shuddering breath before sitting back against the sofa, determinedly looking Draco dead in the eyes.

"Will you watch Greyback eat her alive? Turn her? Would you listen to her scream for mercy?"

"Blaise, don't."

"Will you help them torture her?"

"Blaise," Draco warned.

"Will you laugh as she screams for Potter to save her? Will you sneer at her as she cries her fucking heart out?"

"Blaise!" Draco choked, feeling tears gather in his eyes because he could imagine all too clearly what Blaise was saying. He'd seen it before.

Blaise leaned in as Draco struggled not to hyperventilate.

"Will you help them rape her bloody, Draco?"

"Blaise, _please_ ," Draco begged, tears falling freely now. He was gripping his glass so tight he thought it might break.

"Will you laugh along with them as they force themselves on her? As they -" Draco heard Blaise whimper slightly and he turned to his friend. He was crying. "Will you laugh as they fill every hole in her body? I've heard Crabbe and Goyle talking, Draco. Their fathers and Flint's father _Imperio_ Muggle or Muggleborn girls and force them to take all three of them at once."

"Blaise," Draco whispered helplessly.

"Will you help them, Draco?" Blaise asked brokenly. "Will you and Crabbe and Goyle force Granger to take all three of you at once? Will you fucking rip her apart while the rest of those fucking monsters laugh and sneer at her?"

"Blaise, _please!"_ Draco begged again, struggling to breathe, struggling to get Blaise's words out of his mind, struggling to even see his friend through his tears.

"Draco," Blaise all but whispered. "Please tell me you won't do that. Please tell you don't have it in you to watch that happen to her? To anyone?"

"Of course I fucking don't! I would _never_ hurt her!" Draco knocked back the rest of his Firewhiskey, dropped the glass on the floor and wiped his face furiously.

Blaise wiped his face with a handkerchief the Room provided as Draco tried to regain control of his breathing.

"Draco.." Blaise began, his voice slightly steadier. "If you can't watch shit like that happen, if you can't join in.. How long do you expect to survive?"

Draco looked at his friend helplessly. After all, he was right. If Granger was ever captured.. Salazar save him but he couldn't fucking do it. He couldn't watch that. Couldn't let it happen. Couldn't hurt her. He'd rather die. He felt his heart break and his very soul recoil at the thought of what they would do to her. Just the thought of _him_ possibly being the one to do that to her made him die a little inside.

"If you stay, if you don't get out as soon as humanly possible, you are fucked, mate. If Granger is caught, the way you feel about her will come to light and you are fucked. If some innocent young girl is caught, you crying or begging them to stop or throwing your fucking guts up, is as good as a fucking death sentence.. Draco, you need to _get the fuck out."_

"My mother, Blaise. What.. What can I do?" Draco asked hopelessly.

Blaise sighed heavily. "Draco, whether you stay or go, you're risking everything. You're risking yours and your parents lives. If you stay, you can save your mother for the time being, but the minute some poor bird is dragged kicking and screaming in front of your Lord, or you go to your first revel, your real feelings are gonna be discovered, and you and your mother will die. If you go, there's a chance the Order can hide your mother, but there's also a chance they won't get to her in time and she'll die.."

Draco took Blaise's tumbler out of his hands and had a swig before giving it back. Blaise raised an eyebrow and held his glass out in his right hand, beyond Draco's reach.

"Either way, there's no guarantee you can protect your mother, or yourself. But at least if you get out, you never have to witness that sort of shit. You never have to watch Greyback tear people apart, or girls - or guys - get raped, tortured, killed.. At least if you defect, you won't have innocent blood on your hands, mate. You won't potentially have _Granger's_ blood on your hands.."

Blaise downed his drink and stood up. Draco looked up at him; he looked aged. Like their conversation had added ten years to him. Draco wagered he probably looked the same.

Suddenly, Draco was looking down the end of Blaise's wand. Immediately he reached for his own but it was too late.

 _"Finite."_

Draco could feel the Glamour Charms end and closed his eyes as he heard Blaise suck in a breath.

"I noticed the other morning," Blaise said softly. "I was awake earlier than usual. Caught sight of you before you rushed off to the bathroom. I assume the state of you is the reason you wake up at the crack of dawn and all but run to the showers before the rest of us even open our eyes?"

Draco nodded dumbly.

"Thought so," Blaise murmered. Then he sighed, "Think about what I've said, mate. You're not a killer, and eventually that will get you and yours killed. At least you stand a chance if you defect.. But all this fucking stress is making you sick, so you need to decide. Soon. You look like fucking shit, mate."

Blaise reached down and clapped Draco on the shoulder, holding his gaze imploringly.

"Besides, if you stay, Granger won't hesitate to kill you on the battlefield. She's a member of the Order of the Phoenix, of Dumbledore's Army. She's Potter's best mate. A Muggleborn, one of the very people that the Death Eaters - you - are fighting to exterminate.. If you don't get out while you can, not only will she never touch you with a ten foot broomstick, but she'll either kill you on the battlefield, or happily throw you in Azkaban when Potter wins, which I'm betting he will, being the Chosen One and all. At least, that's the dream. Then Granger will run off into the sunset, probably with the Weasel, and never give you a second thought again."

Before Draco could process the fact that Blaise wasn't as neutral as he thought, simultaneously pushing down the raging jealousy at the thought of Granger and that undeserving ginger wanker, Blaise continued.

"It's a risk. Defecting. But if you manage it, you'll be safe, your parents will be safe, you won't have blood on your hands, you won't be fucking dead from the stress, and you may even have a shot with the swot.. If I were you, mate, I wouldn't hesitate for a fucking second."

Blaise squeezed his shoulder and looked at him with an anguished expression, "Please think about it, Draco. I don't want you to die. I don't want you to be nothing more a child soldier, a murderer, a torturer, a rapist, or whatever else that crazy bastard and his minions and your father try to turn you in to. You are _better_ than that. You deserve _better_ than that.. I don't want you to be canon fodder when the shit really hits the fan. I don't want you locked up in Azkaban for the rest of your life if Potter wins.. I don't ever want to see you break down like that again.."

Draco reached up and held on to Blaise's arm, offering him comfort as the latter fought to control his breathing.

"I love you, brother," Blaise croaked.

"I love you, too, brother," Draco choked out.

With a clap to his shoulder, Blaise picked up his Firewhiskey and his bag, and left the Room, leaving Draco to break down for the third time that evening, this time alone.


	6. Chapter Five

**A/N:** So sorry for taking so long to update! I'm working on a Veela Dramione story that is completely fleshed out and ready to be written, but for the life of me, I can't work out how to start it! So as you can imagine, I've been frustrated. I'm also working on a Marriage Law fic, a pureblood Hermione fic, a Slytherin Harry and Hermione fic that's shaping up to be about 100 chapters and that's just the rough draft, and a Voldemort wins Dramione story that is likewise a lot longer than I initially thought and is proving to be a bitch to write. Writer's block is the most annoying thing in the universe, I swear. So between that, Uni, my kid, and having what could loosely be described as a social life if one was being particularly generous, I haven't had a spare moment to sit down and get this chapter going. But now I'm back! And I'd just like to say a huge thank you to those of you that followed, favourited or reviewed, it feeds my muse to know you care and I find writing is infinitely easier with feedback, which means the chapters keep on coming that much faster! Much love, WaitTilMyFatherHearsAboutThis.

* * *

 **Amor**

 _By WaitTilMyFatherHearsAboutThis_

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 **Chapter Five**

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Hermione Granger was bewildered. Yes, bewildered. For the last two days, every time she looked at Malfoy, he was watching her. Well, she assumed he was because every time she caught him looking, which was every time she looked up, he immediately looked away. It was.. odd, to say the least.

Although, an argument could be made that Malfoy has been acting odd this entire Year. From the moment he got to Hogwarts, it was as though he was a completely different person. Gone was the arrogant arse that swaggered around the school as though he owned it, the boy that couldn't sit at a desk without making his presence known and demanding the attention of everyone in the vicinity. Gone was the boy that had clearly never seen a mirror he didn't like. Gone was the boy who sneered at everyone he deemed 'inferior' - which was practically everyone - and spewed hateful remarks and slurs at every opportunity. Gone was the turd that lorded his name, his wealth, his family's influence, his oh so pure blood, over the rest of the school. Gone was the git that boasted about _everything_ ; his good looks, his intelligence, his Quidditch prowess, his potions ability, everything he was even remotely decent at. Gone was the idiot whose response to every telling off, every insult, every perceived slight against his precious self, was 'wait til my father hears about this', followed by a reminder that Lucius Malfoy was the King of the World, didn't you know?

In his place was a boy who rarely spoke unless asked a direct question, and even then there was a 50/50 chance he would even answer. A boy who seemed to spend the vast majority of his time alone, actively shunning his old friends, Crabbe and Goyle, and going deliberately out of his way to avoid an increasingly-irate Parkinson. A boy who seemed more interested in quietly doing his homework in the library with that shy Theo Nott, than mucking about and playing pranks. As a prefect, Hermione knew that he was shirking his duties, as Parkinson has been turning up to prefect meetings with a death glare for everyone in the room and an insult to the Head Boy and Girl every time they ask after Malfoy. With both Harry and Ron on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, Hermione also knew that Malfoy gave up his position as Seeker - and the unofficial Captaincy as Urquhart, the actual Captain, is a complete moron and by all accounts no-one on the Slytherin Team was too happy about his appointment, and Malfoy had already proven himself a worthy Captain after taking over Montague's responsibilities when Fred and George shoved him in that cabinet - at the beginning of the Year, which was definitely odd as he's been bragging about his Quidditch ability since the very first flying lesson in First Year.

But what really bewildered Hermione wasn't his change in behaviour, though that was a factor, but by his.. decency, for lack of a better word. Malfoy had changed his habits, certainly, and had definitely changed his attitude, but the oddest thing about him was the fact that he seemed to be changing into a decent human being. Which, considering it was Malfoy, was most definitely odd, and certainly unexpected.

The first time Malfoy showed a side of himself that wasn't simply an arrogant, prejudiced arsehole, was in potions class almost a month ago. Hermione had been in the process of grabbing the small stool kept in the ingredients storeroom to reach the highest shelves as she was much too short to reach the boomslang skin. Malfoy had walked in, seen her, reached up, grabbed enough skin for both of them, and handed her her share without a word before bolting out of there before she could say a word, as though he suddenly realised that he was actually helping her, a Mudblood.

The second time was three weeks ago. He had held the door open for her after Arithmancy. Hardly news-worthy, except it was _Malfoy._ Malfoys were not polite to Grangers. Malfoys were not friendly to Grangers. It just did not happen. Except, it did. Malfoy had held the door open for her, a Mudblood, and gestured in a most gentlemanly fashion for her to leave ahead of him. Hermione had embarassed herself by staring at him like he was an alien or something, and had continued to stare at him for several long seconds before she realised that she was being unforgivably rude and thanked him. After she left the room, she had found it impossible not to look over her shoulder at him as she walked down the corridor. As she did so, inadvertently knocking little Jimmy Cootes sideways into a tapestry-covered passageway because she wasn't looking where she was going, Hermione could have sworn she saw Malfoy smile, just a little bit.

The third time was in the library a fortnight ago. Hermione had been struggling with six heavy tomes and reaching for a seventh, stretching precariously up on her tiptoes, when she lost her balance and slammed face first into the bookcase with a highly undignified grunt. From her left, behind the tower of books in her arms, she heard a muffled laugh, then was suddenly, albeit gently, nudged aside. As she adjusted the books in her arms and turned to thank the stranger, the words died in her throat as she was greeted by the sight of Malfoy holding out the book she needed, his lips twitching as he obviously tried to smother another laugh. It was that that truly surprised her; that he had the decency to try not to laugh at her, even though, she could begrudgingly admit, she probably looked ridiculous.

But by far his strangest behaviour had occurred in the last two days. The watching. He was watching her, she was absolutely positive he was, and that was odd. Odd because, for once in their volatile acquaintance, Hermione didn't think it was malicious. She was certain there was no nefarious purpose for his staring, no dastardly plot he was planning, no particularly vicious insult he was dreaming up. Every time she caught him watching her, every time their gazes locked before he quickly looked away, she saw nothing but indecision in his eyes. It had taken her several attempts to read him, to discern the look in his eyes as he watched her, but after five years of being the best friend and babysitter of two stubborn, headstrong boys that seemed determined to kill themselves multiple times a year and hide their trouble-magnet behaviour from her disapproving self, she had become particularly adept at reading people. Well, reading teenage boys that were up to something. It was how she worked out that Neville Longbottom was completely infatuated with Luna Lovegood, who, Hermione had been told straight from the horse's mouth, knew and was waiting for him to make the first move. It was how she worked out that Seamus Finnigan was sleeping with Parvati Patil behind Terry Boot's back. How she worked out that Ernie Macmillan has been so twitchy lately because he's been plotting more and more elaborate ways to get an oblivious Padma Patil to notice him. How she worked out that Fred and George are far more devious and troublesome than even she gave them credit for and to never trust a word they say.

She had never taken the time to read Malfoy before. Or any Slytherin for that matter. Why would she when they were all arseholes to her? But now that Malfoy seemed to have taken an interest in her for whatever reason, she had begun to pay attention. And it was definitely indecision and a hint of nervousness in his eyes whenever he looked at her lately. Which was slightly better than the baffling deer-in-Lumos expression he had given her the other day in Ancient Runes when she accidentally brushed up against his chest. She would have put it down to him being terrified of catching her 'Mudblood germs', except she was _certain_ that she saw him blush. Actually bloody blush! She couldn't be sure because he had all but thrown himself out the door and down the corridor immediately afterwards, causing a group of First Year Hufflepuffs to scatter to safety like pigeons, complete with indignant squawks, but she was sure enough that her bewilderment over the enigma that was Malfoy this Year had only grown.

More than anything, Hermione wished she could talk to Harry and Ron about it, if only to have someone to share in her confusion and curiosity over the whole thing. However, with Harry's paranoia over Malfoy bordering on obsession this Year, she doubted that was a wise idea. More than that, their friendship was strained at best lately, what with her insistence that the Half-Blood Prince's book would land him in serious trouble one day. Not to mention the drama with Ronald -

Hermione cut that thought off before it could get started. Thinking about Ron lately was beyond painful. Especially thinking about Ron _talking._ Hermione still had no idea what exactly she had done to lose one of her best friends so suddenly and so completely, but whatever it was, it must have been awful. There was no other explanation as to why, exactly, he had not only stopped being her friend, but become her bully. Her heart twisted painfully at the thought, but it was true none the less. It was as if he were suddenly channelling the Malfoy from before, except his cutting comments and scathing remarks were directed solely at _her_ , rather than the population as a whole.

So Hermione was left to ponder the oddity that was Draco Malfoy by herself.

Speaking of, the subject of her thoughts was watching her again. This time from what Hermione had mentally begun to think of as 'his' table in the library, which was two tables away from hers and aligned so she had a perfect view of him. Or, more likely, _he_ had a perfect view of _her_. Which happened to be the reason her thoughts had drifted from the very important Rune translation she was supposed to be working on, to the boy whose eyes she could once again feel on her.

Glancing up through her lashes, she was unsurprised to find he was indeed watching her. Again. However, unlike every other time she'd caught him, this time he didn't look away. Instead, he held her gaze for several seconds and the indecision she could once again see in his eyes was slowly replaced with determination, the same nervousness from before, and a hint of what Hermione thought might be fear, but she dismissed the thought. The one and only time Malfoy had ever seemed fearful of her was in Third Year when she aimed her wand at his pointy face. Then she punched him, so the fear was somewhat justified. But simply sitting in the library doing her homework.. No, she must be reading him wrong. What could he possibly have to fear from her?

Never breaking what had effectively become a staring match between them, Malfoy began to pack up his things and rise from his seat. Hermione held his gaze as he slowly approached her, the determination and nervousness in his expression growing with every step. As he stopped in front of her, Hermione kept her eyes on his and affected a mildly curious expression, one that was at complete odds with what was going on on the inside; her thoughts were running a mile a minute as she tried and failed to come up with a reason why Malfoy would approach her and her heart was thumping like a jackhammer. She was completely out of her element right now. She was insatiably curious as to why Malfoy was behaving so oddly, and she _hated_ not knowing things. Yet having him stand so close to her without sneering at her was absolutely unprecedented and it left her feeling distinctly wrong-footed.

"Granger," he began, and then stopped.

"Malfoy," she said slowly, wondering once again what the hell was going on with him.

"I.."

"..Yes?"

Malfoy cleared his throat and continued, obviously pushing his nerves aside. "Granger, could I have a word?"

Hermione blinked stupidly a few times, her wrong-footedness - _That isn't even a word, Hermione!_ \- increasing at his somewhat strained but cordial query.

"Um.. OK.. Do you want to have a seat?" she asked hesitantly, gesturing to the seat opposite her with her quill.

Malfoy shook his head. "No, um.. Do you think we could go somewhere a bit more.. private?" he asked quietly, his eyes scanning the library and no doubt finding several curious looks. After all, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger had a well-established raison d'être of either ignoring each other's existence, or loudly expressing their displeasure with the other's presence. Their rivalry wasn't nearly as bad as it was between Malfoy, Harry and Ron, but there was no love lost that was for damn sure.

"Um.." Hermione's mind temporarily blanked, trying to think of somewhere they could talk in private that wasn't an abandoned classroom, hidden alcove, or broom closet. The last thing she needed right now in her strained relationships with Harry and Ron was a rumour that she and Malfoy had been shagging in a broom closet. Although, she thought viciously, it would be fun to watch Ron's face turn ten different shades of red.

"Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly, and Malfoy's eyes snapped back to hers. "Do you remember last Year? The DA? The room we were all hiding in?"

An odd expression somewhere between twisted amusement and chagrin crossed Malfoy's face before it was replaced with a blank mask a split-second later.

"The Room of Requirement," he drawled with a wry twist of his lips.

"Yes," she said slowly, before shaking off the burning curiosity over his strange reaction. No doubt he was simply remembering the many times the Inquisitorial Squad tried and failed to track them all down. "Is that alright with you? It's the only place I can think of that's private as we can't go to each other's dormitories, it's snowing so I'd rather not walk around the Lake, and the Ravenclaws are using the pitch," she added with a tilt of her head to the window on the wall beside her that had a clear view of the grounds, including the pitch, where the Ravenclaw Team were indeed practising and it was indeed snowing.

Malfoy's eyes flickered to the window briefly before returning to her. "The Room of Requirement is fine. Can we go now?"

"Y-yes," she said, surprised by the increasingly nervous expression on his face and the subtle clenching and unclenching of his fist around his bag strap as he once again gazed around the library at what she was sure were even more curious looks.

Malfoy nodded once, meeting her eye for a brief second with a quiet, "I'll meet you there," before darting away, weaving through the desks and out the door.

Hermione could feel several eyes on her back but resolutely ignored them. She quickly scribbled down a few more translations until she felt the weight of her classmates' stares lessen, before slowly packing up her things with forced nonchalance and exiting the library.

As she made her way to the Seventh Floor, she couldn't help but wonder if it was smart to follow Draco Malfoy into a room that turns into _anything_ \- including, theoretically, a torture chamber - with no-one knowing where she was going. She couldn't deny the faint twinge of unease at the thought before reminding herself of everything she'd noticed about Malfoy as of late. Including her previous certainty that whatever the hell was going on with him, for the first time since they were eleven, he meant her no harm. With that thought in mind, she straightened her shoulders and held her head high before turning down the corridor.

There, leaning against the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy and looking every inch the bored aristocrat except for the way his foot was tapping against the wall agitatedly, was Malfoy.

His head snapped up as he heard her approach and she was intrigued by his almost inaudible, but not quite, sigh of relief.

"Do you not know how to get in?" she asked cautiously as she slowed to a stop beside him, a foot away, wary of his short temper and his tendency to bristle at most things and wanting to keep up the cordial behaviour they had both exhibited so far.

"I thought you might feel more comfortable if you chose the room," he replied sincerely, causing her eyes to widen in surprise.

He gave her a small, sardonic smirk and added, "After all, I may have asked you to meet me here so I could turn the Room into a dungeon and shackle you to the wall."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, strangely amused by his dry, mocking tone.

"Big bad Slytherin," he drawled with wide, serious eyes as though to press the point upon her, pointing to himself.

She felt her lips twitch at that and his smirk grew ever so slightly.

"Hmm, and what's stopping _me_ from creating my own dungeon and shackling _you_ to the wall?" she asked boldly, her Gryffindor brashness taking on a mind of it's own.

Malfoy's eyes widened slightly in surprise before something devious flashed through them. His smirk twisted into something sly and he slowly raised his eyebrows.

Hermione flushed slightly as she realised how positively _filthy_ that had sounded. She saw the dark amusement on Malfoy's face and her cheeks burned even more as she glared at him, daring him to make a highly inappropriate comment.

Evidently taking pity on her as she could see the mirth dancing in his eyes, he replied with only the faintest trace of lingering amusement. "I suppose I'll just have to trust in your noble, Gryffindor sensibilities then, won't I?" he drawled.

Just as she ceased glaring at him and her blush faded slightly, his expression suddenly turned positively devilish as he all but purred, "I'd simply _hate_ to be shackled to the wall, entirely at your mercy, Granger."


End file.
